It was the first time since the accident that Emily could finally sleep without worrying. Even though Morgan had not completely recovered, it still felt good that she didn't need to keep her pregnancy secret from him. She never wanted to go through it alone, she never liked keeping anything from him. Besides, he had the right to know – after all, he was the father of the baby.

They might not have realized and, even though Morgan hadn't remembered everything about them, their relationship was slowly returning to way it was before he got into the accident...slowly. Not that he would have known, but it did make Emily feel somewhat better.

Vaguely, she felt a pair of small hands tug at the edge of her comforter. She tried to ignore it, wanting to go back to sleep, seeing as it had been a long time since she'd had a good night's rest. "Mommy?" Kylie sniffled quietly.

Emily's eyes immediately opened when she heard her daughter's voice. "What is it, sweetie?" she asked gently, picking up the little girl and placing her on the bed. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," she whimpered, pulling up the sleeve of her light blue pyjamas, "It itches... I don't like it."

"Your pyjamas are itchy?" she asked, still half asleep, "Do you need help changing them?"

"No," she whined again, "Mommy!" She was still scratching furiously at her arm.

"Let me take a look," Emily said, gently taking hold of Kylie's wrist to get a better look at the area she'd been clawing at. She frowned, eyeing the angry red sores, then leaned over to turn on the lamp at the side of the bed.

Rubbing his eyes groggily, Morgan slowly sat up. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Mommy, fix it!" Kylie practically sobbed.

"I think she has the chicken pox..." Emily sighed.

...

Emily bit her lip as she watched the doctor examine Kylie. The blistered sores on her arms seemed to have spread everywhere on her little body. It broke her heart that there was nothing they could do to make her feel any better. She had been sobbing since they'd left for the hospital and all they could do was hold her, making sure she wouldn't scratch the sores for the fear that she'd break the skin.

Morgan pulled Emily into his arms, doing what he could to comfort her; having her in his arms made him feel a little better. "She's going to be okay," he murmured, "It's better that she gets it now..."

She nodded, but he knew it didn't make her feel better. Frankly, if he had a choice, he would never want it to happen to his daughter – watching their baby girl in pain made his heart ache.

"You were right to bring her in," the doctor broke through their comforting reverie, "It's definitely chicken pox, but she's got a fever as well – that's pretty common and should go away in a few days. If it doesn't, you'll want to bring her back in."

"Is there anything we can do for her?" Emily asked, protectively stroking Kylie's hair as the little girl lay half asleep on the exam table.

"Make sure she doesn't scratch, which increases the risk of bacterial infection in the sores – keep mittens on her hands, if necessary. Oatmeal baths and calamine lotion should help the itching; give her antihistamines if it gets really bad. Children's Tylenol should help her sleep."

Emily sighed and gently lifted the little girl into her arms. "Ready to go home?" she asked quietly as the little girl nodded.

"Wait," Morgan said, drawing the pediatrician's attention away from the charts. "Doesn't chicken pox pose a risk to pregnant women?"

"Not usually," the doctor said, "Most women already have antibodies that protect against the virus and those antibodies are passed on to the fetus. Though, there are a small percentage of cases where the infection spreads anyways. That risk increases if the woman is not producing the antibodies or if she didn't have a severe enough case the first time."

"So, there is a risk?" he pressed.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed, "There are cases where the pregnant mother gets infected. It's rare, but it can happen."

"Emily, maybe you should let me take care of Kylie," he whispered to her, taking their daughter into his arms. "It's safer that way."

"But you..." she sighed, glancing at the pediatrician. "She needs me, Derek. I want to take care of our daughter."

"I'll take care of her," he assured, whispering softly, "I don't remember a lot of things, but I can take care of our baby girl...trust me. Right now, I need you to take care of yourself and the baby. I can't let anything happen to you."

"Mrs. Morgan," the doctor interrupted. "You should listen to your husband. Like I said, it's rare, but there is a chance that you and the baby could be infected. It's for the best," she added comfortingly.

But Emily's pained expression as she looked into the sad eyes of her daughter made it clear that she didn't share the same view.