A/N: Dear awesome guest reviewer, I know you wanted another wedding chapter with Kitty or Artie's POV. I'm sorry. I didn't want to propel their relationship too quickly. You'll see why, and if you aren't a huge fan of this one, I guarantee you'll like the next one that I've already begun. Thank you for reading!

Amy

"You're gonna kill me but..." Amy handed her brother very tattered stuffed monkey. He reached for it with the nearest hand, before remembering the IV in it, and switching to reach with the opposite hand. "I found this upstairs in the closet of your old room while we were cleaning it out for the baby's room. And well, I brought it."

Artie just chuckled at the gesture, even though he did glance nervously at Kitty in the corner of the hospital room. He examined the stuffed animal, probably thinking of all the same memories that came rushing to Amy's mind when she saw it. She could still recall being twelve and insisting on buying the ugly, bulging-eyed stuffed monkey for her brother while he was in the hospital, with the little money she'd saved. And she could remember all the nights she'd watched him sleep in his hospital bed, clinging to it. And seeing him hold it now, especially in her pregnant state, did something to her. She drew in a shaky breath and felt a squeeze on her hand from Sam.

But she couldn't fall apart. Not yet. She forced a smile, too, as she leaned over to kiss Artie's forehead. "I guess I should probably babysit him while you're in the OR," she commented, and Artie nodded and handed the monkey back to her. She promptly clutched it to her chest, which twisted painfully from trying so hard not to cry. He could probably tell she was on the verge anyway.

"I went swimming last night," Artie said, randomly. "Kitty came over and swam, too. The water's nice. You guys should probably go on back to Lima and go for a swim while I'm in surgery. No need to sit around here the whole time. It'll take awhile."

"Are you insane?" Kitty said. "Sorry, Abrams, you aren't getting rid of me. Oh, or them, for that matter..."

Everyone followed Kitty's gaze to the door, where Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina poked their heads in. Meanwhile, Artie looked like he was torn between being touched by the presence of his four female visitors and wanting to kill whoever had reminded all of them that he was going under the knife on Monday.

"I thought maybe we could pray together before your surgery," Quinn said, tentatively, glancing at Mercedes for support.

Artie was nodding. As for Amy, she sometimes found it astounding that Artie could hang onto his faith, after what had happened to him, but she knew he'd never lost it in the first place. Even if they weren't necessarily practicing the faith as a family, she knew he still had his. And she didn't know about herself, but having a baby with a Christian man probably meant she should start giving it all a little more thought.

"Father God," Mercedes began, as they all closed their eyes and bowed with her. "We lift up our dear friend, Artie, to You today. Lord, we know You are the Great Physician. We pray for the best possible result with his surgery today. Please guide the hands of the surgeon today. Be with all the other doctors and nurses that care for him. Please give Artie strength as he recovers. We love You, Father, and we know You love us. In Your precious name we pray, Amen."

Artie opened his eyes and looked around the room at all of them. "You know this is like a six or seven hour operation, right? I mean, thank you, it means a lot to me that you would come all the way to Columbus and pray with me and stuff, but..."

It didn't look like Tina, Quinn, and Mercedes knew that detail, that it would take so long. The three exchanged looks. "Well... maybe someone could call or text us and update us, when you're out of surgery?" Tina suggested.

Artie seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Something about having that many people waiting around for his operation seemed to put him on edge. Kitty seemed to be catching on, the more he spoke, but didn't look like she wanted to commit to leaving the hospital, too.

"I'll text you, Tina," was Kitty's response.

After Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina wished Artie luck one last time, they left, Tina looking over her shoulder at him as they exited. As they headed out, Artie's surgeon entered to give some pre-op instructions and go over what to expect right after the procedure one more time.

"As soon as we get in the OR, we'll put you under," the doctor explained. "And when you wake up, you'll be positioned on your stomach, in the ICU. We'll make sure someone shifts your position at least every two hours, more if you start to notice that you're stiffening up. And so if you're ready, Mr. Abrams, we're ready to take you back."

Artie gave a half-hearted thumbs up. "Here's to no more slouching," he said, as they put up the sides of his bed to wheel him out the door.

And even Amy had noticed, just in the past few weeks, that he did look sort of slouchy in his chair again. He'd tried to readjust himself to sit straighter, but it looked like it was physically impossible for him to hold the position for long. Logically, Amy knew this was necessary but she wished it wasn't. She wished a lot of things.

"Hey, wait," Kitty ran after his bed. She didn't even seem to care that she was holding up the doctor and nurse, nor did they stop her from leaning over the bed and brushing her lips against his gently, despite the entire family standing there. "I'm sorry, I know you actually don't want me here, but..."

"N-no," Artie stammered, eyes wide as he lay flat on his back and stared up at her. "I do. Want you here. Thanks." He gave a little wave to the rest of them, lifting his head slightly to meet Amy's gaze. And then they whisked him away, the doors to the OR shutting behind him.

The rest of the family and Kitty headed off to the waiting room, which had absolutely no comfortable chairs. It was something Amy already knew about waiting rooms, but it hadn't bothered her quite so much, until she'd been pregnant and in dire need of something comfortable. After watching her struggle to find a way to sit comfortably for awhile, Sam finally pushed Artie's wheelchair toward her and suggested she sit in it. She looked sadly down at it and shook her head, as that twisted feeling in her chest returned. She hugged the bulging-eyed monkey that Artie had once named Striker, an ode to his love of soccer.

Muttering that she needed to go to the bathroom, which was true, she handed Striker to Sam and walked off to do just that. But after stepping out of the bathroom, she didn't return to the waiting room. She walked down to the cafeteria but didn't get anything to eat. Instead, she just found herself a table in the back corner and sat down, to stare out the window.

"Eat something, sweetheart," her daddy had said, reaching over to push the plate of breakfast food toward her. "You aren't eating well, you aren't sleeping, your mother and I are worried about you."

Amy hadn't wanted to eat a single bite, but her father's proclamation that they were worried about her, of all people, when their son had just been hit by a truck, got her attention. Reluctantly, she'd tried to force the pancake down. But all that did was cause her to get sick. And caused her parents to worry that much more, about the twelve-year-old who couldn't keep her breakfast down, when they needed to be focused on Artie.

"Amy?" she snapped out of her memory when the voice of her husband brought her back to Earth. "Hey, please don't go anywhere without telling me, okay? I thought maybe you'd been in the bathroom all this time."

"Oh, sorry, no..." she said, averting her gaze as he sat down in front of her, concern still etched across her face. She sighed deeply as he reached across the table for her hand. "Sorry, I really can't handle hospital waiting rooms."

"Your dad explained," was all he had to say, as Amy squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears fall at last. Sam stood up and came around behind her, to rub her shoulders with his strong hands. He also gave her Striker, which caused her to laugh a little.

"Maybe... we could go back to Hayley's apartment to wait?" Sam suggested. "Artie would be just fine with that, you know. He understands that it's hard on you."

Amy could only nod miserably. Her body really couldn't handle the stiff chairs. Her mind couldn't handle the atmosphere. And Hayley's guest bed sounded awfully inviting just then. Plus, she hadn't slept very well the night before, for a combination of both pregnancy and anxiety-related reasons. So she was in dire need to catch up.

Her friend was at work, but as always, Amy had a key and let herself in. The apartment had once been both of theirs, during Amy's last two years as an OSU student. Hayley was a graduate student and now paid for the apartment on her own, rather than having a roommate. She'd claimed she couldn't get along with anyone else the way she had gotten along with Amy.

So, the guest bedroom actually used to be hers. As she gratefully kicked off her shoes and settled down on the bed, lying on her side, she recalled how much fun she'd had living with her friend. Her new husband also took off his shoes, settled down behind her on his side, and wrapped his arms around her. In this comfy position, they'd both usually lay still and wait for the baby to entertain them with jabs and kicks. Sure enough, as soon as Amy was completely still, he started moving.

"Get some sleep, if you can," Sam suggested. "I'm gonna do the same. I told your mom I wanted to take the night shift with Artie at the hospital tonight."

"What did any of us do to deserve you, Sam Evans?" she wondered aloud, putting her hands over his. The baby gave an especially hard jab that actually made her wince.

"Well, for starters, that's my baby in there," he teased her, rubbing the spot where the kick had been. "Amy Evans." It was the first time she'd heard her new name spoken. Although, she still needed to do a few things to make it official, like apply for a new driver's license.

"Amy Evans sounds so sophisticated," she commented, with a huge yawn to punctuate the thought. "My new name..." But she didn't articulate any other thoughts about the new name, which really sounded like it belonged to a model. Or a judge. She was already dozing off...

"Feeling better?" The next thing she knew, her eyes were fluttering open and she caught sight of her husband sitting in the armchair in the corner of the small bedroom, watching her as he put his shoes back on.

"Mm," Amy hoisted herself in a seated position, with some effort involved to sit up now. She remembered where she was and searched the room for a clock. "How long was I asleep?"

"More than three hours," Sam reported. "I slept a little myself. I didn't want to wake up, though, it looked like you needed it. I called your mom to check on Artie. They've been giving them updates. It's going perfectly. They really feel optimistic that this will be the last time he has to go through something like this."

"That's what they said four years ago," Amy blurted out. She couldn't help herself. Artie didn't even act properly angry about the whole thing, though she knew he must have been.

Sam moved to sit by her on the bed, studying her carefully. "Amy, I know it's hard on you," he said. "And you don't talk to anyone. But I'm your husband. You can talk to me."

"Hard on me?" Amy echoed. "I'm not the one having my third reconstructive surgery, Sam, it's him. And this time, if it doesn't go well, he really can't do it again. And I don't see how he's going to compete in Rio like he wants to, if this doesn't go well."

"I want to see him get to Rio, too," Sam said. "But Amy, yes, I meant that it's hard on you. You've been there all along, always in the waiting room, always awaiting some kind of news about how he's doing. I know how it wears you down."

She reached for her shoes but her belly was in the way, so Sam handed them to her. With a nod to him, she slipped them back on.

"We should get back," Amy said.

"Fine, but I said I'd pick up lunch for everyone on the way," he said. "No one wants to eat hospital food."

Three more hours of passed, of playing card games and just talking, while they waited for the news that Artie was out of surgery. They all tried to keep their mind off of what was happening in the OR, especially Nancy, who excused herself a few times from the group. Amy felt like, for the first time, she could begin to put herself in her mother's shoes. And she couldn't begin to imagine going through stuff like this with her son.

She and Kitty worked a puzzle they'd brought along and talked, more than they ever had before.

"So, I didn't want to ask him this," Kitty started to say, as she reached across the table for the piece she needed. "But what guarantee is there that this surgery will be any better than the last one four years ago?"

"There isn't," Amy said, her heart feeling heavy as she shared this. "He knows. He knows there's still a risk of failure. But he said he wanted to try, while he's still young and while there's this goal he's striving for. You know, Rio."

Kitty nodded. "It's gonna be pretty incredible," she said. "If he makes it there, I mean. And we all go to support him." She glanced at Amy's belly. "You'll have a two-year old."

Amy laughed, as she rubbed the bump. "I guess he'll have to come along," she said. "He's moving around a lot while I'm being so still. You wanna feel?"

The younger girl nodded, as a sweet moment passed between them. They both waited a few minutes, as Amy tried to encourage the baby to move. As always seemed to be the case, he got still anytime Amy let someone feel (which was not often, and Kitty was the first outside of her own family).

"I guess he's not gonna..." Kitty started to say, but then the baby shifted noticeably, creating a huge ripple right where her hand was. "Oh, there he goes. That's really cool. Thanks."

She took her hands off Amy's belly and went back to doing the puzzle, as Amy furtively studied the other girl for a moment. Maybe it was the popular Cheerio thing that still made it hard to believe the girl was in a relationship with her brother. Or had been. And appeared to be be trying to be yet again. But, whatever it was, Amy remembered something Kitty had once said to her, on their lake trip last summer.

"Do you still see a future with Artie?" Amy wanted to know. The girl was talking about being there to support him in the summer of 2016, which was two years away. She must have.

"Absolutely," Kitty said. "It's just... trying to make him see it. That's the obstacle now. I know he's so afraid of holding anyone back. I hate it, that he still sees it that way."

Amy pressed her lips together in a line. Well, Kitty had definitely told it like it was. In spite of being blonde and a cheerleader, she didn't fit any stereotype that said she was supposed to be dumb. She was smart, probably one of the many things Artie liked about her.

"That, and he's never liked our age difference," Kitty went on, with a laugh. "But seeing as I'm about to turn seventeen soon, maybe he'll feel a little better. March to June is never easy on us."

Amy laughed. "Well, I can relate," she said, with a nod to her young husband. "As you know. And it's not easy to be the old one sometimes."

They were interrupted by the presence of the doctor, stepping into the waiting room and approaching the family as everyone looked up from what they'd been doing to pass the time.

"He's being moved now to recovery in ICU," Artie's doctor announced, as Nancy embraced her husband. "He did great. I think he's going to be really pleased with the result. We reinforced the fused vertebrae from the previous surgery, as well as fusing two more, to help with trunk stability, and revised the rods in his back, using state of the art technology. In the long run, this should improve his quality of life."

Amy noticed how doctors always used words like should, never making absolute promises about anything. For instance, she could still hear Artie's first doctor telling them Artie would most likely never walk again. He could have just omitted those two words, given the severity of Artie's injury, but Artie had heard them anyway. And it had planted a false hope in him that took years to properly overcome. But Amy understood why there were no absolutes.

"I can have two or three back at a time," he added, noting that there were five in their group. Amy didn't know if she could wait another minute before seeing her brother. She glanced over her shoulder to notice her mother's gentle nod in her direction.

"My daughter and son-in-law can go on back," Nancy said. "And... my other daughter." She gave Kitty a warm smile, which the girl returned.

Kitty, Sam, and Amy rose to their feet. As promised, Kitty was texting Tina the news as they walked back. Amy could appreciate how Kitty respected the close friendship between those two. And didn't seem the least bit threatened. (Well, how could she be? Tina was currently in a serious relationship with Kitty's brother.)

The ICU was not a pleasant atmosphere. At this this one was nicer than the one at Lima Memorial. Instead of patients behind curtains, everyone had rooms with glass walls and open doors, all patients in view of the nurse's station in the middle.

Artie was connected to monitors that beeped out a steady heartbeat as he breathed in heavy sleep, positioned on his stomach. Sam wondered aloud if they should have brought his chair in here, but Amy shook her head. She knew it would be several days before Artie was allowed to sit up in his chair again, let alone wheel himself. It was a hard road for someone who liked to be as independent as he could. But, she reminded herself, he'd done it before. And without friends by his side.

There was only one chair beside his bed, and Kitty immediately sat down. She did not break her gaze from his face as she reached out for the free hand that didn't have a needle in it. She grasped his fingers, and it couldn't have been more clear that this was where she intended to stay, if they'd allow it.

After a few moments of talking with the nurse who was looking after Artie, Amy finally gave a nod to Sam, indicating that they could go and give her parents a turn. They didn't even ask Kitty if she was leaving. She'd made it perfectly clear that she was staying put. Amy deposited Striker on his bed, before leaving.

"She loves him," Amy told Sam, as they exited the double doors and headed back into the waiting area together. "She really loves Artie. I guess I never fully believed it, until now."