So here it is, the beginning of the end, if I haven't lost you all. Thank you to my official readers who have hung in through thick and thin, and also my three "unofficial" reader/reviewers Hungrytiger, Girlintheyankeehat and Anything but ordinary. I appreciate your appreciation.

"Showtime"

The softest, blackest hair, big eyes, tiny perfect eyebrows, feathery lashes . . .my daughter. She's resting on my chest, my breathing taking her up and down like her first merry go round ride. I'm in love.

Abby's asleep; she needs it. Her breathing soft, face no longer contorted with effort and pain, so beautiful. She was no less beautiful in labor, her eyes soft sometimes, wide at others, her forehead crinkled in concentration, her hand clutching mine, the fine beads of sweat on her upper lip near the end. The sheer effort, the willing to become mother. It was amazing to watch her. I've never loved anyone more. Never. Didn't think I'd say that not in this life, but it's true. Her hand clutching mine, her pain, my pain, her effort, my effort, it was amazing. It was the best thing we'll ever do together, I'm sure of it, the most in love we'll ever be.

In hindsight, I guess my reluctance to leave her that night made perfect sense. It was our last evening as just a couple not a family. I was on edge all that night after I left her. So distracted I missed my exit and had to double back through the city. I couldn't shake the feeling. Her words, my words, I wanted to make it done for her, over, as if someone can finish something for another person. You see, she's done the work on her own past, figured out how to make it work with the present, the future. But mine? Î wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if she was still worried I'd lose it during her labor. Or if I didn't lose it, where I'd be, who I'd wish she was . . . . That's not what I wanted for her, for us. Driving through those streets I saw a group of homeless men huddled around a fire, a fire in a garbage can. I had this image pop into my mind from my childhood. On October 31st , the eve of All Soul's Day, my Baka Ivana would always light a fire, stoke it all night, to keep away the evil spirits. It was in that moment I knew what I had to do before her labor. The last gesture I could make.

Susan and I were working on a pedestrian versus a SUV, guess who won, when I got the news.

"Chest tube's in."

"I can't see the cords Luka"

"Fiberoptic?"

"Yeah, damn. No wait, there got it"

"Sat's are up, okay hang another unit of O -neg and let's get him upstairs.."

Some desk clerk I've never seen before sticks his head in. "Is one of you Dr. Kovac?"

"I am."

"You? But you're so old."

"Excuse me?"

"Well I thought you'd be an intern. How old is she?"

"What are you talking about?" Where do they find these people?

"Your mother."

"My mother?" I find myself oddly longing for Jerry or even Frank.

"She just called."

"My mother's dead."

"Stupid prank call then."

"Someone called pretending to be my mother?" Is it just me or does this make no sense?

"Yeah crazy, she said she was having a baby."

"What?" My voice sounds strange even to my ears.

"Someone claiming to be your mother said she was in labor."

"She said she was my mother?"

"She said she was Mrs. Kovac, I asked if it was your wife, but she said no your mother."

I think I sort of scared the guy, grabbed his jacket, got in his face. "When did she call? When did it start? How far apart are the contractions? Did her bag break? What did she say?"

"Whoa, she didn't say much, she just sounded kinda grumpy."

"Jesus." I look at Susan.

"What are you looking at me for get the hell out of here. Haleh call Carter tell him he's on."

"Carter just left a couple of hours ago." I remind her.

She looks at me. "You're on call for Abby, he's on call for you. Now move your ass, and tell Abby . . . "

But I don't hear what I'm supposed to tell Abby because I'm down the hall and out the doors fumbling in my pocket for keys, the cold forgotten. I drop the keys as I try to unlock the car door. "Shit." I crack my head on the rear view mirror when I snap up too quickly. "Ow, damnit." My hands are shaking. Okay, pull yourself together man, this is the last thing Abby needs. So I take a deep breath, and then I manage to get in the car. I get on the highway before I fumble for the cell phone. It's busy, who the hell is she talking to? 911. Dear God, my foot weighs down on the gas pedal, and I wish for the Viper.

The lights are on, no ambulance in front of the house. I run in find her on the sofa and take a deep breath. She's fine. She looks at me.

"Where's your coat?" I don't remember what we say but I do remember wondering why we were talking about my coat.

I kneel in front of her take her hand. "How far apart?

"Between fifteen and twenty minutes as far as I can tell."

"Fifteen or twenty?" I take a deep breath, easy, there's time, probably plenty of it.

The pain is getting worse still not too bad. I tell her I have to do something. She asks me to wait till the next contraction ends. She handles it beautifully. I go upstairs and find my papers. The reams and reams I wrote during those dark days when I broke, my memories, my pain. Whatever I need to remember about Jasna and Marko, it's not on these pages. It never was. What I really need to know, to remember, it's in my heart. I take them to the fireplace, crumple them one by one, strike a match, and I burn them. She watches me and says nothing.

I say it for both of us, "Done". Because there's no way I'm going to have her worry about me for one instant during this labor. I won't have it.

She still says nothing, but that's okay, I've done what I can do. She puts out her hand, another contraction. I take her hand rest the other on her belly.

"Strong" She doesn't argue.

"Bag intact?"

"No, it broke around 4:00."

"Then we should go in, get things checked out."

I get her coat, and pull her into me for just a moment. I stroke her hair, and damn if I don't kiss her like I would have if I'd had the chance to wake her when I got home.

"Showtime" I say.