Eyes closed and head leaning back against a folded towel, Ally was in the tub dozing when she heard Charlie's nails clicking against the tiled floor, heralding his and Jackson's return from their walk in the hills. A smile instinctively forming on her weary face, she opened one eye and then the other and watched the bathroom door swing open a little wider as Charlie wandered in.

"Hey, buddy," she said, reaching over to stroke between his ears when the pooch rested his snout on the edge of the tub. "You back from your walk, are you?" She angled her head toward the door listening for signs that Jackson was coming but heard nothing. "Daddy okay? He's not with you?"

Charlie licked at her wet hand, then made for the door and looked back over his shoulder before slipping out of the room. With a sigh, Ally sat up fully, then pushed to her feet, water cascading all around her, then carefully stepped out of the tub and reached for her robe she put on. Still listening out for Jackson, she dried her face and feet on a towel, pulled the plug in the tub and checking her reflection in the mirror went out of the bathroom.

"Jack?" she called quietly, looking in the bedroom. "Charlie?"

She padded barefoot to the kitchen, glancing out the window into the darkness, before peeking inside the den and music room.

"Jack?" she called again, her heartbeat quickening with fear as belatedly she thought to check the garage. She flung open the connecting door, only to find the garage in darkness, and felt her hand to the wall to turn on all the lights. She scanned her eyes from the ceiling to the floor, to every dark corner, past the Harley and inside the truck, but just like the rest of the house the garage was empty. She blew out a breath and took a moment to let her heartbeat return to a more normal rhythm while she berated herself for being so irrational. If Jack had been in the garage, doing God knows what, Charlie would have made more of a fuss.

She opened the garage door and looked outside. The sight of Bobby's truck parked there twisted her heart and she swallowed. When they'd left the hospital earlier that night, Phil had driven them to the campsite at the foot of Point Mugu. After Phil had driven off, they'd hurriedly, and wordlessly, packed up the camping gear, the few items of clothing left out on the cots or on hooks in the cabin and loaded it all up in Bobby's truck still parked nearby. The drive home had been silent and rather sombre with Jack barely holding it together.

She'd offered to take Charlie for a walk, but he'd insisted and hoping the walk would calm his nerves she'd let him go. Her head shaking, she closed up the garage and retraced her steps to the kitchen, glancing outside through the window again before stepping out onto the lit up patio. When she couldn't see him from her vantage point, she carefully picked her steps down the path to the darkened backyard. Repressing a shiver, she pulled the belt on her robe tighter around her. Jackson was near the building site, sitting with his head bowed on a pile of rubble, Charlie at his feet.

Thanks buddy, she thought, you could have waited for me. Saved me a whole lot of worry.

She stopped in front of Jackson and, when he didn't look up, perched herself next to him. "It's nice here," she said, looking up at the starry sky. "Peaceful."

She closed her eyes and her face still angled skyward listened to the cicadas sing their evening song. When after a minute or so she opened her eyes and looked over at him, he was gazing at the sky too. She watched his profile face for a moment, then shuffling a little closer leaned her head on his shoulder. Without looking at her, he instinctively opened his arm out, draping it around her.

"Talk to me, Jack." She looked over to him but he was still gazing at the sky. "What's on your mind, huh? I mean, I know what's on your mind, obviously, but―"

He shrugged. "This time yesterday," he said after a beat, "Me and Bobby, we were sitting outside the cabin looking at those same stars." His voice cracked. He clamped his jaw in an effort to control his emotion, and at a loss as to what to say she turned her gaze back to the night sky. "We talked about dad," he went on after a while and gave a mirthless laugh, "About you and the baby. He's so fucking stoked about this baby, Ally, you wouldn't believe."

She smiled.

"But mainly we talked about me. He wanted to know about the new songs someone told him about, whether I made a decision about doing the gig at the ACL." He scoffed. "Even though he's not my manager anymore he still likes to boss me around."

Her smile widened. "Isn't that what all big brothers do? And besides, he's only looking out for you because he cares."

"Oh, Ally," he blurted out suddenly, his voice a mere breathless whisper. "What if he doesn't make it?"

She whipped her head around toward him. "He will make it, okay?" she said, working hard to keep the tremor from her voice. "You heard what the doc said. The op went well. He is stable. That's all we can ask for, for now."

Turning his watery gaze toward her, he gave an unconvinced nod. "I keep thinking―I keep thinking that I wasted so much time, you know? Being mad at him when all he's ever tried to do was keep me on the straight and narrow. Being mad at him for everything I fucked up in my life. I never thought in a million years―" Scrunching his face as if in pain, he withdrew the arm draped around her and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, Jack," she said, turning her body around so she could hold him to her when he broke down.

"There's so much I haven't told him," he went on between sobs, "So much stuff we still haven't done."

Gently cupping her hands around his cheeks, she coaxed him to look at her. "And you'll get the chance," she said, staring deep into his eyes. "He's going to pull through; I know he will. And when he does, he's going to need our help."

With a hard swallow, he nodded his head.

She wiped the tears from his cheeks. "You got to stay positive."

"You're right," he said, staring at her intently. "You're right. I'm sorry." He looked away. "I'm just so…fucking tired."

"Then let's go to bed," she said softly. "And try to get a little sleep."

He turned back to the sky. "You go. I'll…just stay out here a little longer."

Making no move to leave, she wriggled her bare toes and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the night chill.

"Shit, Ally, you're cold," he said, springing to his feet.

She giggled. "My fault for not putting shoes on."

"Go back inside or you'll get frostbite or something."

"Only if you come with me." Pausing, she stood up. "Come on, Jack, please, come in with me." And then she remembered. "There's something I want to show you."

When he hesitated, she held out her hand to him encouragingly and he took it. Charlie stood up too, then shook himself and with Charlie leading the way they wordlessly walked back up the path and inside the house.

"You hungry?" she asked, headed for the fridge while Jackson closed the sliding door behind them. "You want me to make you a sandwich or something?"

"No, I'm fine."

"A drink?"

Watching her closely, he shook his head and she took out the bottle of milk from the fridge before reaching for a glass and pouring milk into it.

"Still craving milk?" he asked, a smile in his voice.

Looking up as she brought the glass up to her lips, she smiled broadly. "I can't get enough of the stuff. When I was on Kimmel and the assistant asked what I wanted to drink I almost asked for a glass of milk." She gulped half the glass down. "Do you think it means I'm deficient?"

A wide grin breaking across his tired face, Jackson covered the distance to her. "No. I just think our baby's growing to be big and strong." He reached a thumb to her mouth and wiped over her top lip with it. "You got a milk moustache," he explained when she frowned at him suspiciously. Grabbing the lapel of her robe, he pulled her to him and kissed her lips.

"Not too big, I hope," she said, in a scoff, pulling back from him.

"The baby," he asked teasingly, "Or the milk moustache?"

Pulling a face at him, she play-punched him in the arm. "Quit it," she said, pouting, "You know how I worry I'll never be able to push a baby out of me, let alone a big one."

Jackson's expression softened lovingly. "It'll be fine," he said with confidence, tapping his index finger to her nose. "This baby's going to be a tiddler like you."

She put her glass down on the island. "A tiddler? A tiddler?"

"Yeah, a tiddler. You know…" Grinning, he lifted her up in the air and she wrapped her legs around his waist. "It's like a sma―"

"I know what a tiddler is," she said, moving in as if to kiss him, "And I'm not sure I like it."

"Oh, but I love it," he said, his lips vibrating against hers. "I love that you're so small I can lift you up and hold you like this in my arms. All of you."

"And the baby."

"And the baby," he repeated softly.

"What if the baby's big-headed like you, huh?"

Jack cocked a brow at her, indicating he'd picked up on the double entendre, before he burst out laughing. "Then you'll have your work cut out."

"I'll have my work cut out?"

"We," he amended. "We both will." His expression sobering, he stared at her deep in the eyes. "I love you so much," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "And I love this baby you're carrying so much already it hurts."

A tender smile spread across her face. "And we love you too."

Tears sprung to his eyes suddenly, and she relaxed her legs from around him while he gently lowered her to the ground.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, his smile trembling. "I'm just…" His shoulder lifted uncertainly. "It's nothing."

"Jack, please," she insisted. "Tell me."

Again he shrugged, then he flicked his eyes from her face to her stomach. "I was just thinking―well, I hope Bobby gets to meet him, or her, that's all."

She touched her hand to his cheek. "He will, Jack. I know it's hard, but you got to think positive."

Jackson gave a slow nod, and she picked up her glass and drank the rest of the milk. "Come on," she said, moving to put the glass in the dishwasher, "Let's go to bed."

He paused. "You said you wanted to show me something."

She frowned briefly, before it dawned on her what he was talking about. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"But I can't," he said, laughing. "Just show me already, then we'll go to bed."

Taking his hand, she went to sit down at the piano. "Sit down with me," she bid when she saw him hesitate, patting the space on the bench beside her, "And I'll show you."

He took his place next to her, and closing her eyes she tried to recall the melody she'd composed for his song and recorded on her cell. Ready, she took a breath and began playing.

"Stop," he said, after she'd played a few notes, putting his hand on her right one, stilling it. "I recognise this tune. I―"

Alarmed, she looked over to him, but he looked fine, just puzzled and distant.

"It's the tune I heard you play a few times. Bobby's played it too. You said it was something―"

"―my father used to play."

She nodded. "I just changed the key and added a few notes and…I mean, you don't have to use it if you don't want to. I just thought it could work as a melody for, you know, your new song. If you don't like the idea―"

"No, I like the idea," he said softly, keenly, his eyes intent on her face. "I like it very much."

She paused. "Why didn't you…ever write the melody in a song before?"

A smile formed, twitching at his lips. "Maybe I did."

She frowned, quickly played through his back catalogue but came up blank. "Did you?"

His smile widened. Tapping the side of his nose with his finger, he half stood, checking the top of the piano before locating the lyrics to the song he'd left there. He scanned his eyes over the words quickly, then pursed his face favourably and laughing turned toward her. "Okay, maestro. Start again."

While she played, he sang the first verse in a whisper, moving his face, his mouth, closer and closer to her until his lips vibrated against her ear and she shivered. "You're so fucking sexy," he sang on, in the same key. "I want to make love to you."

Lifting her hand off the keys, she pulled a face and turned toward him. "I'm pretty sure that's not how the song goes," she remarked, slightly chastising.

"Fuck, I hope to God it isn't," he said, bursting into laughter. "The song's about our unborn kid, Ally! What do you take me for?" His expression became sheepish, then very earnest. His gaze lowered to her chest as his hand lifted to the lapel of her robe and he slid a finger along its length, lightly skimming over her skin. "No, I―I just find you really, really sexy right now in your half-open robe and messy hair." He looked back up. "And I really, really want to make love to you."

A lump formed in her throat, excitement and anticipation in equal measure. "What happened to waiting, huh?"

Standing, he put the sheet of lyrics away and looking very solemn held out his hand to her, the deep yearning in his eyes silencing her protestations. She recognised his need – the need to be touched and comforted, the need to feel loved and connected to someone. When she stood, he bent down and lifted her up in his arms again, this time the way he'd done when they'd got married and he'd carried her over the threshold of their hotel room.

"I promise to be real gentle," he whispered in her ear.

Ally woke up the next day to the sound of her husband speaking. Briefly she wondered if he was talking to Charlie but the staccato of his voice told her otherwise. Frowning, she got up, slipped on her robe over her naked body and went to the kitchen. Cell glued to his good ear, Jackson stood at the sink with his back to her. Padding over to him, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder and startling he turned around.

"The hospital?" she mouthed.

Refocusing on the conversation, he gave her a nod. "Okay, thanks," he said. "We'll be there for ten."

"Good news?" she asked, when he hung up.

"Depends on what you mean by good news. He's not awake yet, well, not properly, but there were no complications overnight. Oh, and also they took out the breathing tube, so he's breathing by himself."

"Well, that's good news, Jack. Real good news. What time is it now?"

He checked the time on his cell. "A little after seven-thirty. Visiting hours don't start till 10. You're okay to come with me, right? I mean, you don't have anything planned, do you?"

She smiled. "Nothing that can't be moved."

He tossed his cell on the island, then reached inside the fridge for the bottle of milk. "We're almost out," he said pointedly.

"Don't blame me," she said, grinning as she pointed toward her stomach.

He made a musing sound. "Eggs for breakfast then. But first I'm going to grab a shower."

"Hey, hey," she said, holding him back by the waist when he rushed past her. He turned around and she tapped her lips. "Kiss first."

A grin splitting his face, he willingly complied. "I won't be a minute."

While he headed to the shower, she finished the milk, then fished her cell out of her purse and reread Rez's message. Visiting Bobby this morning, she typed. Can't meet with the label. Either postpone or go alone.

No sooner had she sent the text than her cell vibrated in her hand. With a sigh, she checked over her shoulder and moved to the patio to connect the call.

"Ally," Rez said without preamble. He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the slapping sound of his feet she realised he was on the treadmill. "I can't keep postponing. That'd be the third time. Besides, I'm flying out to New York this afternoon, you know that, and I won't be back until next Wednesday. We're running out of time. It has got to be this morning."

Charlie wandered over from rummaging inside some bushes and she gave him an absent-minded stroke. "I can't make this morning, Rez. I just can't."

"Listen," he went on, his tone appeasing now, "I don't want to get in a fight with you. I know you're worried about Bobby―"

"Too right I'm worried about Bobby."

"―and that you want to be there for Jack but―"

"No buts, Rez. Jack needs me right now. Either the label waits, or you go alone. I don't care."

"You don't trust me to go alone."

She paused. "You know, what? Right now, it doesn't matter whether I trust you or not."

"Ally?"

Ally spun around.

Jack stood there, leaning against the edge of the sliding door, watching her. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "Rez, can I call you back?" she said into the phone, and hung up.

"We spoke about this, Ally," Jackson said.

"Spoke about what?"

"Risking your career because of me."

"That's not what I'm doing, Jack. It's one meeting. One meeting that doesn't have to be today. Bobby's sick. I'm coming to the hospital with you and that's that. I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Bobby. Same as I would do it for my Dad, or Ramon. Or anyone I care about."

His expression softened. "What time's your meeting?"

She shrugged. "Ten."

Jackson took in a breath he let out slowly. "What if you ask Rez―"

She dropped down onto one of the patio chairs. "Jack―"

"What if you ask Rez to see if he can push the meeting back to the afternoon, huh?" He picked up a second chair and moved it next to hers. "That way you can come with me to the hospital and also meet with the label, and keep everyone happy. We can ask Phil to pick you up from the hospital and drive you straight to wherever you need to be."

"Rez is leaving for New York in the afternoon." Ally's cell vibrated in her hand, startling her. "It's Rez again."

Jackson cocked a brow, and beaten Ally sighed and connected the call.

"Okay, before you shoot me down again," Rez said, "hear me out, okay? I think I have a solution that can work for both of us."

She glanced at Jack, who moved closer so he could hear, and she put the call on speakerphone. "Okay."

There was a pause. "So, I just checked and there's a later flight to New York I can get, so if I could arrange for the meeting to be at, let's say 1.30pm, would that work for you?"

She glanced at Jack, who nodded his head fervently at her. "Sure," she finally said. "That would work for me."

"Okay. So unless you hear from me again, I'll pick you up myself from the hospital. Oneish. I'll text when I'm there."

"Rez, no, I can―" But Rez had hung up. "Shit!"

Jack pinched his lips, stifling his smile.

"You two conspiring against me?" she asked in a sigh, putting her cell down on the table.

"Great minds think alike, what can I say? I'm starting to like the guy," he said, laughing as he pushed to his feet. "Come on, I'm hungry. Let's have breakfast. How do you want your eggs?"

"Hi," Jackson told the nurse on duty when she got off the phone. "We're here to see my brother. Bobby?"

The nurse smiled at Ally before she refocused on Jack. "Sure."

"How is he?" Ally asked. "When Jack called earlier the nurse said he'd had a good night?"

"He did. He woke up a little earlier, but he's still very groggy and was sleeping last time I checked on him. Which is absolutely nothing to worry about," she added, flicking her gaze back to Jackson. "Dr Ramirez is running late, but he will come to talk to you as soon as he can."

"That's okay," Jack said. "There's no hurry. I'm not going anywhere." He looked over his shoulder toward the unit. "Can we go and see him now?"

"Sure. I'll take you to him."

In the room, Jackson took Bobby's hand and squeezed it gently. "Hey, buddy," he said, smiling softly as he looked at his brother's face. "It's me, Jack. Ally's here too." He glanced over to Ally uncertainly and she smiled encouragingly.

Bobby stirred a little, his eyelids fluttering before opening and then shutting again, and glancing at Ally again Jackson swallowed. Bobby made a sound, a small groan that refocused Jackson sharply, then his unfocused eyes slowly flickered open and he weakly moved his hand inside his brother's. The two brothers met each other's eyes, as if a silent conversation passed between them.

"How you feeling?" Jack asked.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Bobby croaked.

Jackson's eyes averted as he pinched his lips, stifling his laughter, and putting her hand on his back Ally stepped forward a little more.

"Hey, sweetie," Bobby went on, blearily refocusing on her.

She smiled warmly. "Hey."

"All good with the baby?"

Her smile widened. "All good."

"Good," Bobby said, tiredly closing his eyes again.

Bobby promptly fell asleep, and but this small exchange did a lot to assuage their fears. They stayed by his side, Ally chatting quietly while Jackson investigated the medical equipment attached to his brother, until quietly knocking on the door Dr Ramirez let himself in.

"Mr Maine," he said, nodding at Jackson as he picked up the chart at the end of Bobby's bed, before flicking his eyes over to Ally. "Mrs Maine."

"How is he?" Jackson asked, as she smiled back to the doctor.

Dr Ramirez scanned Bobby's chart before he replied. "Bobby's doing okay so far," he said, speaking in hushed tones. "We removed the endotracheal tube this morning and he's breathing by himself. The cannula in his nose is just to give him a little extra oxygen. So far there are no signs of infection." The doctor paused, and Ally guessed a 'but' was coming. "However, the EKG, which tracks the electrical activity in Bobby's heart, shows some signs of arrhythmia."

"Arrhythmia?" Jackson asked, frowning.

"Right now, Bobby's heart isn't beating as regularly as we'd like, Mr Maine. It's a little irregular. You play guitar, right?" Dr Ramirez asked out of the blue, adding without waiting for a reply, "So do I. Well, I dabble, but anyways. Arrhythmias are like recorded music containing extreme timing deviations. Are you familiar with George Harrison's Here Comes The Sun?" The doctor's eyes widened with glee. "Or Pink Floyd's Money?"

Frowning, Ally glanced at Jackson but immersed in the doctor's words Jackson simply nodded his head. "You're talking about odd time signatures."

"That's right. The song begins in an unusual 7/8 time, then during the guitar solo the song changes to 4/4, then returns to 7/8 and ends in 4/4 again. Bobby's heart's doing kind of the same when we'd like it to be a constant 4/4."

"I get it," Jackson said, nodding.

"It's a common post-op complication and we're keeping a close eye on it."

Turning his attention back to Bobby, Jackson gave a nod.

"He woke up before," Ally said, trying to stay positive. "He spoke to us."

Dr Ramirez smiled. "That's good. You'll find that he's going to be…sleeping a lot today but by tomorrow he should manage to stay awake for much longer periods of time."

"So," Jackson said after a beat, "let me get this straight. A blocked artery is what caused his heart attack, right?"

"That's right."

"And you fixed it."

"We did."

Jackson gave a nod. "So, could it happen again? I mean, for his artery to get blocked."

"Well, the one we created should last him a fair few years, but unless he makes drastic changes to his lifestyle, then yes, another artery could get blocked."

"So he could have another heart attack."

"That's right, but the rehabilitation programme will teach him what to do to minimise the risks. He'll have to take all his medication as prescribed, but also take part in daily physical activity. Minimise stress. Eat healthy foods. Drink alcohol but only moderately. Very moderately. If he's a smoker, he'll need to quit―"

"He doesn't smoke."

Dr Ramirez nodded. "We'll go through everything with him in due course." He paused. "What happened to Bobby is a life changing event. He will need to make adjustments to his lifestyle."

Jackson gave a nod.

"Oh, and before I forget, we contacted his physician," Dr Ramirez went on, refocusing both sharply, "and he confirmed that although your brother wasn't on any medication there were signs that all wasn't well."

Glancing at Ally, Jackson nodded his head.

"I'm going to leave you in peace now," the doctor said, moving to the door. "But I'm around if you have more questions."

"Thank you," Ally and Jackson said in unison and watched the doctor leave the room.

Ally closed the distance to Jackson, rubbing her hand to his back when he turned back to his brother.

"It's going to be okay," he told Bobby, "You hear? From now on, I'm going to do the looking after. I'm going to be the brother I should have been for you all those years."

Bobby's eyes opened. "'Bout fucking time."