Okay just read it. I can't even, this was my favorite chapter to write.

LITTLE LION MAN

Emma cried out in pain as another contraction hit her. She knew it was coming, they had been timing them as instructed by the doctor but she still felt unprepared.

"Just breathe Emma," Mary Margaret spoke soothingly, pressing a rag onto her forehead. The schoolteacher was surprised how well she had contained her nerves. The baby was coming early, much too early, and she knew that, and she guessed Emma did too, but she didn't dare to voice it. Her left hand lay mangled in Emma's right, red from the sporadic, and quite frankly painful, squeezing. But she knew Emma was experiencing much worse.

Emma laid her head back on the pillow, her face strained, and out of breath. "Okay, less than two minutes. We're getting closer," the brunette spoke encouragingly. "You're doing great." To be honest, Mary Margaret was screaming on the inside. She had no idea what to say or how to handle the situation. Each time Emma cried out she thought that she might burst into tears that she couldn't comfort her.

"No…" Emma moaned, her head shaking side to side before she looked into Mary Margaret's eyes, pain written in her own. "I can't do this. I ca—aHHHH!" She leaned forward and gripped her roommate's hand tightly. "I can't. Do this," she cried between the pain. "It's too early. He can't be coming." She laid back as the contraction ended and more tears rained on her cheeks; tears that she thought she would have been out of by now. "I'm not ready. I'm not ready to be a mom," her voice was high and her neck muscles tensed as she spoke.

"You are ready," Mary spoke, "And you have me. I won't ever leave you."

Just then the nurses came in the door, "How long?" they asked, looking to the schoolteacher.

"A minute and a ha—" she started but was interrupted by another sharp cry from Emma. "Make that a minute and fifteen."

"Okay Emma," one of them spoke. "You're progressing much faster than we thought. We're gonna start getting you ready to push. The doctor will be in few moments."

Her eyes widened in fear. "No. No no no. I'm not ready. I'm not ready," she sobbed.

"Why don't you go grab a quick drink of water, and by the time you're back we'll be ready," another nurse directed Mary Margaret.

"I'll be right back," she spoke to Emma. "I promise." The way that Emma looked at her almost broke her to pieces, but she turned away knowing that she needed a minute outside to gather her own sanity.

She tensed as she heard another scream of pain blast through as she shut the door and walked into the hallway. Immediately she heard someone call her name. "James!" She looked up, and saw him racing towards her. Almost immediately her resolve broke and she burst into tears.

He pulled her into his chest and rubbed soothing circles on her back. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" he asked, expecting the worst.

"No, they're both fine. Well, Emma's not really fine. And as you can see, I'm falling apart by the minute," she sobbed, allowing herself to chuckle slightly. For a minute he just held her there, allowing her to let it out.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts. "She's in so much pain, and I can't help her. I can't stop it. She so young James. And I know this is crazy, but sitting in there and watching her hurting like that… I keep feeling like I'm watching my own child being hurt, and I can't do anything no matter how much she begs me."

"Mary Margaret, you being there for her is enough. Now," he wiped her wet face free of tears, "She needs you, and I know that you want to be there, so don't let me keep you." He gave her one last peck on the forehead before sending her off and watching her walk back into the room, where more cries were breaking through the walls. He cringed, and nervously shuffled to the sitting area to wait.

"Mary make it stop!" Emma pleaded, her head curling forward as she released another bellowing cry. She delivered another bone crushing squeeze to the brunette's hand as a fresh layer of sweat broke the surface of her skin.

Mary Margaret could only speak words of encouragement, trying not to allow herself to break down in front of the younger woman. The doctor ordered another push and Emma protested, "I can't. I can't do it." But with the next wave of contractions, she had no choice and she writhed forward again.

"You're almost there Emma, I promise," Mary Margaret lied. She had no idea how close she was, but she hoped that the words would help. After a few more rounds, the doctor echoed her statement, and announced that it would be five or six more.

Emma leaned backward on the bed, lying on her spine. She was exhausted and trembling and the nurses were looking worried. "She needs to sit up," they instructed Mary Margaret, hoping she might be able to coax her.

"Emma, you need to sit up. You are almost there. You can do it." But all she got in response was a shake of the head, as her face fought the crippling pain.

Mary Margaret looked pleadingly at the nurses, searching for help. "Here," one of the walked toward her and whispered instructions in her ear. "Would to be comfortable with that?" she asked, to which the brunette only nodded, trying not to show any doubt in herself.

"Okay, Emma," she spoke loudly to the girl on the bed. "You need to sit up and scoot forward a little. We're gonna have Mary sit on the bed behind you okay. That way you can lean against her. And it'll help make it easier okay?" Emma obeyed weakly, and Mary Margaret slid in behind her, her knees bent and her legs on either side of the blonde. She sat upright as best as she could, and placed both of Emma's hands in her own, bracing against the weight of the young girl collapsing onto her.

"Alright Emma, no more breaks. Let's go. Give me a good one," the doctor called out. And she did, pressing her back against her roommate and screaming loudly. "Good. The head's almost out. Three more."

Mary Margaret felt like she couldn't breathe under the pressure of Emma pushing against her, but she stayed there, pressing back in assistance as the nurse had instructed, and keeping her hands gripped tightly in the blonde's. After two final pushes, Emma collapsed back onto her all of the way and a sharp little cry pierced the air.

The doctor shuffled around, clipping the cord, and checking the airways. Whilst he did so, the two women remained on the bed, Emma's entire weight placed upon the torso of Mary Margaret. The brunette could feel the young girl's heart pounding rapidly and heavily, and she allowed her eyes to close. Emma's hair was a bedraggled mess, she was soaked with sweat, and she hurt everywhere. But she didn't care. Mary Margaret took one hand and pulled the hair back from Emma's forehead. The blonde's head moved with her hand, allowing the comforting gesture to take her from the moment.

The doctor finished his work and called out to the women, holding him up. A beautiful, wailing, squirming little boy. A nurse quickly swaddled him in a blanket and brought him around to the bed and placed him in Emma's arms, who was beaming, her eyes glued to him. Mary Margaret remained, essentially trapped, behind her roommate and watched, tears once again pricking her eyes as the young woman held her son for the first time. The minute he reached her grasp, his crying subsided and he curled in towards her. His eyes opened to the light and Emma laughed.

"Hi there," she cooed. "I'm your mom, kid." Her head fell back and she breathed a full exhale for the first time in twelve hours. When the back of her head hit Mary Margaret's soft chest, she turned her head back suddenly, having forgotten that she was there. She smiled up at her. "Thank you."

Mary Margaret could only smile back. The pain in her hands was shoved aside and the ache in heart was replaced by overwhelming love. As Emma sat forward, she clamored out from behind her and stood at the side of the bed, helped the blonde adjust the pillows so she could sit up and, watched her gaze at her son.

"He's so small," Emma spoke softly.

At that moment a nurse walked to the other side of the bed, and informed her that they needed to take him for some basic exams, but he would be returned to her soon. Reluctantly Emma let her take him from her arms and she watched them the entire way out of the room.

"You were amazing Emma," Mary Margaret remarked, sitting down on the space on the bed that Emma made for her.

"Thanks," she replied. "But next time I get involved with someone, please remind me how much that hurt. I'm not doing that again for a long time." She managed to let out a small chuckle.

As the nurse had promised, minutes later they returned with the baby and placed him back in his mother's arms. "Have you chosen a name?" She asked, grabbing a clipboard off the table in the corner of the room.

"Henry, Henry Matthew Swan," Emma cooed. "After a childhood friend of mine." The nurse nodded.

"What a beautiful name. And we'll have someone come back in a bit and help you with the first feeding," she replied, exiting the room.

Emma flushed slightly, realizing what that would entail, but looking back into her son's face, the rest of the world melted away.

"Henry…." Mary Margaret rolled the name over her tongue. "Why after that particular childhood friend?" she asked politely, gazing at his tiny features.

"I knew him from school, and we got along right away because we both were foster kids. He was my best friend throughout second grade. But he'd always come to school with really serious injuries; it was a bad situation in his home. One day the teacher pulled me aside after class and said that he had passed away suddenly. I didn't even need an explanation; I knew what had happened," she sighed sadly at the memory. "His foster father was incarcerated and I never heard anything after that. But his memory has always stuck with me. He was the first, and last, true friend that I ever had. Until you," she added.

It was the perfect name; a perfect way to honor a life lost too young.

Later that night, after she had said her goodbye to James, and returned to the room, Mary Margaret found Emma asleep and Henry in the same state in the hospital bassinet to Emma's right. The nurses had asked if she wanted him to sleep in the public room with the other babies, but she had refused and asked that he stay.

Mary Margaret watched them peacefully sleep and couldn't resist placing a small kiss on each of their foreheads, before situating herself on the chair that she had somewhat converted into a bed. Closing her eyes, she finally allowed sleep to overtake her after almost forty consecutive hours spent awake. The darkness seeped into her the brain and she felt her dreams beginning to surface. And just as she touched the realm of complete unconsciousness, a baby's cry erupted in her ears.

Baby Henry! I didn't want to change the name, because of how it fits him now, so I made my own story for it. PLEASE tell me what you thought.

7Seven7, you will always get a thank you. (For anyone whose wondering, that MM sitting behind Emma thing IS a real delivery technique. It provides better support, but you have to be seriously strong [or a mother helping their child haha] to be the person behind). I hope I did the whole giving birth thing justice. Being only Emma's age, and far less Emma-ish, I have not had a baby ;)