Meredith goes into labour.

A/N: Ahh! One chapter left!

I'd like to thank everyone who has left comments/reviews/bookmarks/kudos/favourites and/or followed the story. :)

I have an epilogue to post after 109 (but it will be a separate one-shot post, not on this specific story) and then I will be disappearing...for two weeks. My requested fic where the Grey-Shepherds visit Carolyn and the terrible trio will start on Saturday 26th, and end on New Year's (as it's, you guessed it, about a New Year's party :0).

You'll be glad (hopefully) to know I have more to come, but updates won't be as frequent as they were.

"Dr Shepherd?" Amelia called. She was glad he was back, she really was. But she also really wished he had changed his name when he got married. It was so damn annoying.

Derek wasn't doing anything any more. He couldn't. He was frozen, loading, empty, eyes digging a hole into his brain more than either of the instruments in his hands.

"Dr Shepherd, the patient is stable. I'd like to discuss a surgical plan with you outside."

He only looked over to her when she placed a hand on his, drawing the idling instruments away from the patient. He gave a heavy blink. Swallowed once. Then again: twice. "Of course. I'd like to consider an anterior approach, might mean less chance of re-bleed." He agreed. It was a lie. The part of the tumour he was attempting to respect was at the back, no approach would work other than the one he was working with. But the patient didn't know that.

"Could you?" Amelia started, looking to a scrub nurse. She didn't need to prompt what she was asking in any more words, the woman knew.

"You know-" He started at a rather loud amplitude so she could still hear him through the wall of the bathroom, swallowing as he shook his head to himself over the toilet, not bothering to flush the empty bowl. "-I've thrown up in the OR before."

"Like inside the OR?"

"Yeah. You think this is bad." He murmured, pulling open the door. "That tumour on the wall in our bedroom-"

"You threw up over that tumour?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, not in the guy, obviously, but yeah. It...it wasn't pleasant. At least nothing happened this time." He uttered optimistically, smiling as if there was such a big difference between today: him hanging over the bowl, waiting for the nausea to subside, and then: just about emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor.

Today, he mainly went there to breath, rather than for the taste of bile.

It was a rather odd thing. He was fine. Jason's numbness went away, the bleeding stopped and everything returned to normal. Or semi-normal, considering the fact that there was a large astrocytoma in his brain. And he relaxed at that. At the stillness of the waters. Then...he froze. Not during. Not just a second after.

A grand minute later.

A grand minute later where, had he looked up the moment he froze for, seemingly, no reason, he would have seen his wife, rushing out the gallery with a desperate hand on her bump. But he didn't.

He didn't see it. He didn't know about it. He just felt it.

"Why didn't you close when you saw how bad it was?" She asked as they made their way back to the OR. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to be glad that Derek expressed the same amount of fear as her when he glanced at her so she knew he hadn't completely lost it with over-confidence, or worried that he continued despite it

He wasn't the same person as he was eight months ago. Then, he would of continued because of said over-confidence and his ego. Now, she felt like he was doing it more out of duty. Because this was the man who almost killed him and he promised he would go down trying. She wished she could say that his personality shift was an easy one but she was pretty sure it was caused by the heavy, painful bout of negative emotions in those first few months after the accident. He changed and she didn't think he'd be the same again.

"I removed his parietal tumour, I'm starting occipital now. It's working. It's not inoperable." He pointed out. It didn't have that same boastful quality. It was simply a fact he was stating. That was what had changed in him.

"But you and I both know what that looked like when you first opened. In fact, you looked more ill than you do now." She joked, only half kidding.

"I promised I'd try."

"Braver than me." She murmured, still not quite able to believe that he had even removed half of the tumour already, never mind his plans to continue and free him completely.

He smirked at the comment. "My god, Amelia Shepherd, was that a compliment?"

"You ready to go back in? Or are you still considering an anterior approach?" She joked back.

"Oh, shut up." He dismissed through a chuckle. He had only said that so it sounded like they were going to discuss something complex and technical out of the room. "I wasn't serious, was I?"

She laughed back. "No, seriously, I like the idea. Let's go in anteriorly!"

He sighed as the laughter of the joke subsided.

"Know what made you sick? Or was it just the tumour freaking you out?"

"It...I don't know. It was after the tumour freak-out. Like...like something else had happened."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she pushed open the scrub room. She had no idea what he could be referring to there. Neither did he.

He entered first, Amelia taking one step in when a voice called from behind them. "Dr Shepherd?"

"Yes." Both replied in unison.

"Dr Amelia Shepherd." The woman in light blue scrubs corrected. Neither of them recognized the woman, hair tied up into a blonde bun and a smile on her face.

"You've really got to change your name." Amelia murmured as she closed the scrub room door on him, letting him scrub by himself.

"Am I needed for a consult? A surgery?" She asked, confused why the woman would be stood in front of her. She was unfortunately on-call (they barely ever got a day off together) so she wasn't overly shocked by the possibility that she was needed elsewhere but she found it strange that it wasn't a page that pulled her out.

"Neither." The woman denied.

"Oh." She breathed. She couldn't think of any other reason she would be needed so desperately in the middle of a surgery. "Why do you need me then?"

She made a gesture away from the scrub door. Amelia followed the prompt a couple steps away from the room, now a tad scared. "Meredith Grey went into labour five minutes ago." She said in an undertone, still worried Derek might be able to hear her.

She couldn't help the autonomic raise of her eyebrows and shock written over her face at the comment. It was basically a reflex. "Right."

"Chief said to ask you if you could take over for Dr Shep- uh, Derek Shepherd, so he can be with his wife." She elaborated, surprised by the emptiness of her response. Really, she was just too busy freaking out. She knew what the woman was going to request and, as much as she hated it, the answer was no. "Apparently, she keeps telling Dr Karev that it's okay and to let him finish, but if you could…"

She knew what the woman wanted. She wanted her to take his place. And she would love to. She would love to let her brother be with his wife. She would love to have a chance to be part of that tumour's removal. She would have loved to save a life. But she couldn't.

"I would love to. I really would. He should be there." She swallowed. "But I can't. I don't know the tumour like he does. I'm not even sure how he managed to get clean margins in what he's removed already, the scan…it showed nothing in comparison to what the astrocytoma is really like."

"She says she doesn't need him, but that always changes with labouring moms. How long will he be, for when she changes her mind?"

"A good few hours but she's going to be in first stage labour for a while, right?"

"She believes she may have been experiencing mild contractions since this morning. Around nine or ten."

A hand scrubbed her forehead, unable to access her scrub-capped hair to run through the strands as she wanted to. "Page me 9-1-1 the moment she goes into second stage or she changes her mind about needing him. I'll just have to do my best."

"Okay. Thank you Dr Shepherd."

"Where did Mer go?" Derek asked as Amelia entered the OR from the scrub room. He was already sat by the patients head, forceps in one hand and scissors in the other. He had just about started the occipital tumour.

She swallowed, hesitating for a moment before remembering Meredith had been in the gallery and that's how he knew she had gone. "Uh- dunno. Toilet? Hungry, it has been hours? Maybe there was an emergency in the pit and she offered? You know her."

Or maybe she's in labour. Maybe she's sat squeezing Alex or Maggie or someone's hand off through a contraction while the father of the child sliced holes in the man who put him in a chair's brain. That was the weirdest thought she'd had in a long time. But he was right about it being operable (for him at least) and it was working.

"Oh." He breathed, a little disappointed that his wife would be willing to miss this. Webber was still stood watching. If it was the latter, he was general too; why couldn't he have gone instead?

She walked through the room, pausing besides the man whose wife had just gone into labour. Her brother. The father of her next niece or nephew. Her third one from one side, and fiftieth or something generally; her sisters had far too many kids.

She was worried about blurting it. She could keep a secret. But whether or not she could lie to her brother about his child being born was a whole other matter.

"What did that person want?" He asked after a second.

"Nothing interesting. Just a quick consult on a bleed, should resolve itself." She lied quickly, surprised she managed to even shove that out of her mouth. "I'm fine to stay."

"Jason-" Derek called, smiling properly for the first time in almost three hours. "-do you know what a coda is?"

He thought for a second before saying, "If I'm honest, I have absolutely no idea."

"In music, a coda is the final part of the piece, like what we happen to be listening to right now in this concerto. But it is also the coda of the surgery."

"You mean-" He started, trailing off from the sheer fear and excitement beating through him.

"In around thirty seconds, you are going to be tumour free." He confirmed.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He nodded, beaming again as he switched to the last instrument he needed to touch the tumour with. "I told you I'd try and turns out my attempt worked."

Applause was an awkward thing. Like singing someone the happy birthday song. It was a kind gesture. It was nice. It showed appreciation or congratulations. But there was nothing to do but sit there and wait for it to die down.

He smiled at the burst of applause, a courtesy, but he couldn't help the feeling that he had felt weighing him down for the last few hours. Something just seemed a little off inside of him and it had done for a while.

"If you couldn't tell, the clapping was because I just removed the last portion of your tumour." He noted anyway, ignoring the feeling.

"So I'm not going to die?" He asked, not able to quite comprehend the words dropping from his surgeon's mouth. He was told he could die there. He was told he could stroke out there. He was told a lot of things that made his stomach drop. But none of them happened.

"Well, that's the plan." He replied, exchanging a smile with his sister. "Now I just need to close. You know- take the tape of the crime scene or whatever it is that expo do when they're done."

He ignored the odd look from his sister at the seemingly out-there comment. It was an inside joke between them.

She was glad the surgery was done for the man. But she was more glad that that meant he was now free. She had no 9-1-1 page. Meredith hadn't gone into second stage labour or asked for him yet. She knew she was only really doing that so he could stay. That sounded like a Meredith thing to do, especially considering how important this surgery was to her husband. Derek noticed her smile drop quickly as she thought he looked away before she called his name, words drowning in…some emotion that most definitely wasn't good. "Uh- Dr Shepherd, you need to let me take over."

"What?"

"I'm going to close for you becau-" She tried.

"Amelia, I've got half an hour left. I'm fine. I'm not tired and I'm not cramping up."

"Derek." She called a little more sternly. "Derek, listen to me. I need to take over for you now because-"

"I haven't done god knows how many hours of surgery for you to take over now just want your name on this case." He snapped, a little spite in his voice. It was fair enough assumption; his sister could be ambitious like him. But it was wrong. He didn't meant to talk like that to her. But it was true, they had been sat there for 'god knows how many hours' so he was tired, and, if he was honest, he still felt that thing gnawing inside of him. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it wasn't good.

"No, Derek-" She tried.

His head turned her way with the strength of her refusal, eyebrows raised in shock at her disobedience. "Excuse me?"

"I'm telling you that you need to let me take over because your wife's water broke almost three hours ago and I've been waiting for you to finish this phase of the surgery so I can tell you."

The retractor, no longer in his hand, hit the floor with a loud clang of metal half way through that statement.

He didn't drop it at the news that the parietal tumour removal supposedly didn't work – despite the fact it actually turned out to be a bleed – but he did at this. Of course he dropped it at this.

The whole room was silent now and, had the intercom been on, they would have received a similar lack or speech from them too.

He swallowed.

His wife. In labour. Meredith. Giving birth to his baby. Their baby. Now. Well, not now. Almost three hours ago.

That was when the man informed him of his neurological symptoms and he had to escape from the room in fear of a panic attack or being sick. Or both. Although, he managed to escape both somehow.

Now he knew where that feeling came from. The one that was eating him from the inside. Meredith. Was. In. Labour.

"She…what?"

"You had to actually finish removing the tumour. I couldn't do it. You know the protocol about pulling people out of surgery when there is no one else available. But you've finished now, so go. I can finish the rest. You did the hard part. Go on, I'll close for you. Go be with Mer."

"Out of all the days Derek, seriously?" Meredith sighed as he entered the room. He wasn't sure he had ever moved so fast in his life and his hands, honestly, hurt like hell. The surgery started in the morning and the sky was black now. It was a long surgery.

"I think I could say that to baby too." He chuckled, unable to wipe the grin from his face as he pushed himself to her side, exchanging a quick greeting smile with OB/GYN. It wasn't Connie but he hoped she could presume that he was the missing husband. "Already giving us grief and they're not even a second old yet."

"Mmm mmm, well if you could find some way to control them right now, that would be much appreciated."

"On a scale of one: I'm in labour of course I'm not fine you idiot, to ten: this baby is going to burn a hole through me, where are we?"

She smiled at his adjusted scale. "You being here just knocked off about eight."

He swallowed, a wider grin consuming his face than ever before. As he blinked, he felt his eyes swell with tears. He couldn't help it. He was about to meet his son or daughter.

"Hey!" She exclaimed at his watering eyes. "Don't look at me like that! The baby is supposed to be the cute, snotty, crying one, not you!"

"I'm cute and yes, maybe I'm crying a little-" He paused as she raised an eyebrow at his agreement. "-but I'm not snotty." He retorted, offended by the mere suggestion.

"Whatever you say." She murmured, just a second before she gripped desperately at his hand. For a second, he couldn't quite acknowledge what was going on. His wife had never truly been in labour before, despite the fact they had two kids. That added to the fact that he had missed the start of the process where contractions were rare and mild – or as mild as pain could be in labour – meant that he certainly wasn't expecting the contraction. Or the hand crushing.

"Alright?" He questioned as the pain receded.

"Do I look alright to you?" She asked through a grimace. Clearly, the pain had done anything but fade as he had presumed at the release of his hand and the lightening of her wince.

"No. But you do look beautiful. Very beautiful. Always." He beamed, placing a kiss on her cheek before sweeping some hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

She smiled a little but she wasn't quite convinced anyone but him would call her beautiful in the state she was in. "Sure I do."

"You do." He reassured her. She was always do damn beautiful.

"H- how is Jason?" She asked. Her son or daughter was very, very important. But, if Jason died, she wasn't sure Derek would be able to hold it together. He'd instinctively smile at the sight of them, but she knew that underneath, he'd be crushed.

"Amy is just closing. I think he's fine."

She smiled. "That parietal rebleed really freaked me out."

"You left after that."

"My belly felt like it exploded and I ran."

"I left surgery just after you. I felt sick. And I...I though it was because of Jason. Because it freaked me out. But...I know this sounds really stupid, but I think it was you. I think I could-"

"-sense my anxieties over my water breaking?" She suggested, not believing his idea. "You get mirror syndrome with babies, not fathers."

"Well, tell me why I left the OR because I felt abruptly ill at the apparent moment your water broke then, huh? I thought I felt that way because of his tumour and that bleeder in his parietal but now…" He trailed off, hand breaking from her grip to slide over her belly. "It had to be literally the same minute."

"You just love me so much, you can sense my pain." She murmured, placing her hand over his so she could be with both her baby, and her husband.

"Yeah." He agreed earnestly, although he was pretty sure she was joking. He wasn't. "Yeah, I can."

"How- how much longer?" She asked (although it was more of a beg) as her last contraction died away and her eyes finally had the chance to settle on the clock.

"Not quite yet Meredith, I'm sorry." Connie apologized.

"H- how long now?" Derek asked as Meredith was consumed by another contraction, squeezing his hand tight.

"Hey-" She muttered through a scrunched face, trying to stop herself from screaming out with pain. "-why are you the one complaining? I'm the one squeezing a baby out!"

"One, because I love you and I don't like seeing you in pain. And two, I just did like a billion hour surgery, then pushed myself here in like thirty seconds. My hands are on fire and you keep-" He paused when she was hit by another wave, and her nails jammed into the back of his palm. That was bad enough, without the power of the grasp itself. "-doing that!"

"Sorry! Delivering a child kinda hurts!"

"How much longer now? Is- is it time yet?" She asked, a similar plead to before. It was post-contraction so her face wasn't wrinkled with pain, but she couldn't catch her breath.

She shook her head. "Baby is in a good position. Your vitals are good. But no. Not quite yet."

She couldn't manage the full sentence anymore. "Now?"

"You're in the second stage Meredith, just a little longer." He promised.

"How- h- h- h- how about now?" She asked through a heart-ripping surge of pain. This had to be it. She wasn't sure she could physically be in anymore pain. "We almost done?"

Connie beamed. "Yeah."

"Seriously?" Meredith exclaimed, not helping her jaw as it dropped open a little.

"You see that clock up there?" She questioned, gesturing to it with her head. Both parents' eyes shot to the clock. "This baby is going to be out and smiling by half past."

It was twenty one past.

She was going to have a baby in her arms in nine mere little minutes.

Their baby: the tiny, breathing little human that they had made together.

In nine minutes: five hundred and forty seconds.