Hi! Have a chapter with no actual ending!

Disclaimer: I don't own the character of Sammy Valdez

May 10th 1952

"Mr Valdez?"

"Oh crap that's me," Sammy said snapping himself out of drowsiness. He'd been at the hospital for ages. The guy next to him shot him a look like 'congrats on remembering your name'. As he walked up to the nurse, Sammy thought that he was pretty good for having remembered how to talk, period.

"Hello ma'am," he said.

"Miss," she said grumpily.

"My apologies," Sammy said.

"Your wife just woke up. Congratulations on having two beautiful little boys."

"Oh that's great," Sammy said feeling more relieved than ever. "Wait- two?"

"Yup," the nurse said. "Surprise. You have twins."

"For God's sake," Sammy muttered under his breath. "Really?"

"Your wife was just as thrilled," the nurse said. "I take it ya'all didn't know this?"

"Not particularly or at all, no." Sammy said. He took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Carmen was okay, and so were Thing 1 and Thing 2 apparently. That was the important part. Details, like numbers, were blurry and meaningless. Everything would be okay.

"You can come see them," the nurse said interrupting that. He nearly tripped as he followed her down the hall.

Carmen looked pretty exhausted when he came in but she smiled at him.

"This thing happened," she warned him.

"I know, they duplicated." Sammy said. "How are you? Oh God."

She was holding one of them. The doctor she'd been talking to held the other.

"I know," she said softly.

"This is Twin A," the doctor said. "The oldest. Would you like to hold him?"

"Yes," Sammy stuttered. The doctor lowered Twin A in his arms and Sammy kind of felt like melting.

"Come here," Carmen said patting a free spot on her bed. Sammy nodded and sat down next to her. He kissed her head.

"They're gorgeous," he said softly.

"I know," she said. "I'd say I had a pretty productive day."

Sammy smiled but couldn't tear his eyes away from the baby in his arms. Except to kiss Carmen's hair again and look at Twin B.

"They're identical," Carmen said. "But I've spotted the difference. Gabriel has a birthmark on the temple, see?"

"Gabriel," Sammy nodded. That was the name they'd picked earlier. "So who's that one?"

"I don't know," Carmen said. "I have no idea. We'll figure something out."

"Always," Sammy said kissing her hair again.

Anza,

Anyways, I don't think I need to tell you how it felt when I saw Carmen and Felipe and Gabriel. It just felt magic. Part of me was still panicking because there were two of them and by 'them' I meant babies that I would take care of and have to raise to be good people. Like, what? How was I supposed to do that when I wasn't entirely sure that I was a good person myself? How was I supposed to do that when so much was on the line? I mean, if I screwed up, one of them could end up as a pimp or a drug dealer or something. Do you know how scary the possibility of your child being a pimp is? (Probably not because I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who was thinking about that particular thing in the moment, but now that it's out there think about it and how scary the idea is. But don't worry, you're going to be fine, and Leo won't end up being a pimp).

But a big part of me was just taking it all like a dream –possibly because I hadn't slept at all for the last 48 hours. I'm kidding, it was a dream because kids are magic. I don't know how else to say it. It's a miracle that they're there in the first place, it's a miracle that they're yours and it's a miracle that they're okay.

For the first time I understood what people meant when they said stuff like 'I have to be there for the kids'. That always sounded stupid and senseless to me: I'd seen plenty of people not 'be there' mentally, or just not at all. But it wasn't some moral responsibility or a contract parents signed with the universe. It's because of that feeling you get when you hold your baby for the first time.

I don't need to explain; you have Leo, and you love him more than anything. Just copy-paste that feeling into words or an explanation that make sense, and maybe this letter will too.

Sammy