Disclaimer: "Most of the characters still are not ours," Kora proclaims.

"Still?" Kelly responds.

"Yeah...neither are the lyrics from 'The Impression That I Get'...see ch.16's disclaimer."

"Do we own anything?"

"Well...not really," Kora says.

*Kelly curls up in a ball and cries* 

Chapter 17

The Impression That I Get (part 2)

Have you ever had the odds stacked up so high

You need a strength most don't possess

Or has it ever come down to do or die

You've got to rise above the rest

            J was a month along in December when she found out that she was going to have a baby.  Over the following nine months, Alan was a prime example of love and patience, dealing with the many aspects of J's pregnancy.  Morning sickness, mood swings, he saw and handled it all.  Not to mention J's (or any woman's) awesomeness for putting up with everything.  But even with the joy brought by the prospect of a baby could not last forever. The world does not stop for future additions. 

***

You've got to rise above the rest

I've never had to knock on wood

But I know someone who has

Which makes me wonder if I could

August 15, 1983.  6:03 a.m.

            "It's some sort of curse, isn't it?  First Gerry, then Dad, now Coach…" 

            Alan walked around the kitchen and rubbed J's bulging belly, a troubled but determinedly hopeful look in his eyes.  "He's not gone yet.  The heart attack just put him in a coma, it didn't kill him."

            "I know…" J sighed and chewed on her lip worriedly, eyes distressed.  "But it's just hard.  With all that's happened…"

            "I know, sweetie," Alan said softly, embracing J from the side (from the front was now impossible). 

            J barely flinched when the baby kicked.  She was so used to it by now.  His hand still on J's swollen stomach, a little smile appeared on Alan's face when he felt his son/daughter's contribution to the conversation.  Though it was nearly impossible to lift anyone's spirits with Coach's condition what it was.

            "He's going to be a great athlete," J remarked off-handedly.  "He's got such a strong kick." 

            "He?" Alan questioned, hugging J tighter. 

            "Our baby, he's going to be a boy, I just know it.  And I want to name him William Gregory."

            "That's perfect."  Alan gave his wife a final squeeze before releasing her.  "We should get ready to go.  Sheryl's waiting for us." 

            J sighed again, stretched, and took the dishes from their quick breakfast (it came after Sheryl's panicked phone call 15 minutes ago that Coach had collapsed and was now at the hospital).  Picking up a bowl of cereal, her fingers slipped and she spilled it, milk included, all over herself.  "Alllaaaaaan!" she called, exasperated.

            "Yes, dear?" he cam in from the other room. 

            "I spilled milk on myself; can you finish cleaning up while I go change?"

            "Of, course, sweetie," Alan answered, kissing her as she passed.

***

I've never had to knock on wood

And I'm glad I haven't yet

Because I'm sure it isn't good

that's the impression that I get

            A few minutes later found J and Alan pilling out of the house and into the car.  They met Sheryl at the hospital (they called Adrienne and notified her; she was getting as back to Alexandria as quickly as she could) and set up camp in/around Coach's room.  There they remained for the entire day.  Despite their constant, persistent hopes, dusk fell and there was still minimal change in Coach.

***

I'm not a coward,

I've just never been tested

I'd like to think that if I was,

I would pass

            J pushed up from the chair in which she was sitting, stood behind Alan, and massaged his shoulders.  "I need some caffeine.  I'm going to find a soda machine.  Want me to get you anything?"

            Alan turned his gaze from Coach to J, caught her hand, and kissed it.  "Any sort of cola, thanks."

            J smiled in acknowledgement and headed for the door.  She paused for a second, wincing, when the pain flashed again.  'I must have slept in a bad position,' she mused.  'My back's been killing me all day.'

            Alan was lost in thought, particularly memories of Coach, when a blood-chilling scream made his heart stop.  He whirled around and was up out of his chair seconds later.  There in the doorway, J was doubled over, clutching her stomach with gritted teeth.  Alan rushed to her side and anxiously tried to help her stand.  He had no clue what was going on.  Sheryl stood by her father's bed, torn.  There wasn't much that she could do, but she still wanted to help J.  Nurses hustled into the room, beckoned by J's cry. 

            The head nurse took a single look at J and announced the problem.  "She's having the baby," the nurse stated matter-of-factly. 

            "Wait, what?!" Alan interrupted, panicking.  "Jules is having the baby NOW?!  She can't!  She's not due for another two weeks!"

            J glared at Alan, but the nurse held up a silencing hand and directed the other nurses to assist J to the empty bed next to Coach.  Not having yet let go of J's arm, Alan helped.  The nurse turned to Alan.  "Due dates don't mean anything to babies.  It's coming now."

            Alan worked his jaw, his eyes wide in alarm.  He glimpsed frantically at the nurse, then at J.  "Can't you make it stop?"

            J glowered murderously at Alan and made a lunge for him but another contraction caused her to scream in fury instead.  The nurse put her hand on J's arm, trying to calm her.  "No time for that, honey.  I'll let you at him later.  Right now, I need you to answer some questions for me."  She stopped for a second, directing one of the other nurses to go get a doctor from the maternity ward.  The nurse returned her gaze to J.  "Honey, you can't just go into this stage of labor so fast.  There ARE signs.  Why haven't you said anything?"

            "I didn't know," J gasped painfully.

            The nurse clucked in confusion.  "How can you not notice your water breaking?  Or the labor pains that you must have been having all day?"

            J wasn't able to answer right away, the pain being too great.  Alan sat by her side, ignoring the crushing pain in the hand that J was clutching.  That was all he knew to do, so he wasn't much more help.  Gradually, J got an answer out.  "My water—must have broke—I spilled milk—this morning.  Pains—all day—thought—back pains."  Another vigorous contraction came and J scrunched up her face, bottling the scream in her mouth.  A small noise, almost a whimper if Alan could imagine J whimpering, escaped her lips.

            Alan stroked the hand that grasped his so tightly.  "I wish I could have the baby for you," he whispered, trying to extend some comfort.  "Or at least share some of the birth pains."

            J tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace as the contractions continued.  "That's sweet of you, Alan," she paused for a pant of air, "but you'd have killed yourself after the first contraction."  The doctor then came through the door at a rather leisurely stroll, making J want to spear something.  Just in time, too, for the baby decided that it wasn't going to wait another moment.

***

Look at the tested and think there but for the grace go

I might be a coward;

I'm afraid of what I might find out

            Screams, some indistinguishable and some sounding uncannily like, "get away from me!  You did this to me!" ripped through the hallways of the hospital.  Pillows were thrown, a ruckus was raised, but finally the protesting wail of a newborn baby pierced through the air.  It was when the exhausted but relieved new parents circled William in their arms that Sheryl allowed herself to look at last. 

            "Wow," she whispered, tracing a chubby finger with her own slender one. 

            "I know," Alan murmured beside her, running a hand over William's soft, light hair. 

            "It's a mix of us," J muttered, struggling to stay awake.  "His hair…it's red…but blonde…a mix of ours."  It was true: already William had a tuft (not a large tuft, but a tuft nonetheless) of strawberry blonde hair.  The nurse allowed William a few more minutes with his parents and aunt before preparing to take him away.  J objected, but the nurse assured her that she could see him again soon.

            Yet, it was a protest from one particular person that no one could ignore.  "Hey, hey, now, don't take my grandson away before I can get a good look at him," came a weak voice from the other bed.  Everyone except William jumped a little at the sound of Coach's voice. 

            "Coach!" Sheryl cried before running to his side, sudden tears unashamedly washing her wearily pale cheeks.  Alan beamed and stood between the two beds, unable to leave his son's side but wanting to be near the now-awake Coach.  J fought to sit up straight and lean in a position to directly face Coach. 

            "Looks like we're gonna be roomies," she said with her trademark puckish grin and mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

            "That it does, J," Coach replied.  He noted the inquiring glances, summed up his energy, and answered the question that was dangling on the tips of the tongues of everyone (save William) in the room.  "I heard the birth cries of my grandson.  I had to wake up and be a grandfather to the little guy." 

            The nurse gave Coach a warm smile, gently taking William and bringing him over to let Coach hold him for a bit.  For that one, perfect moment, peace and a newer, deeper sense of family reigned in the petite hospital room.