Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

A/N: This chapter started as something in my head and then turned out to be quite different from what I imagined. I think at some point it gained autonomy and the characters started writing themselves. And the result is below. Hope you enjoy.

'You there? Over.'

'What?.'

'Come on, you should be playing along... Blonde Hawk. Over.'

'Whatever.'

'Such a spoilsport. Come on, Paris. Show me adventurous. Over.'

'You realize we're not even talking, right?'

'I can't hear you. Over.'

'Of course you can't hear me. We're texting. Texting on your iPhone is as far from double duplex as one gets.'

'Irrelevant. Over.'

'Is this some leftover habit from your military experience? Are you deeply traumatized, do I need to enlist you in some PTSD help group?'

'Blonde Hawk, you there? Over.'

'This is so ridiculous.'

'Hot Stuff here. Blonde Hawk, are you there? Over.'

'Hot Stuff? Jeez. Full of yourself much?'

'Blonde Hawk? Blonde Hawk! Over.'

'Ah, I'm so gonna regret this. I'm here. Over.'

'Phew. Good Heavens, Blonde Hawk, I was beginning to worry some old boring lady had snatched your phone from your hands and started texting me instead of you. Over.'

'Ha-ha. Do you actually have something to tell or are you habitually wasting my time? Over.'

'Something to tell, something to tell. Ah, yeah. There's been a change in the surgical schedule, you're supposed to be scrubbing in with me instead of Allinski. Over.'

'You find now to tell me? What time am I supposed to scrub in?'

'Blonde Hawk... I can't hear you. You there?'

'I'll kill you. Kill. You. Over.'

'See you in ten, Blonde Hawk. Scrub rooms. Bring your lucky scalpel.'

'I will. I'll use it to slice you. Over.'

'Keep missing me. Over.'

Giving Tristan the green light to text her was so not a good idea.

'I have tons of ideas about Josh's birthday surprise party. We can discuss them over the unconscious patient once the anesthesia kicks in. Can't wait. Over.'

So not a good idea. Jeez.

'What's rolling?' Tristan plopped into the break room sofa next to Rory, throwing an arm over the comforters, stretching lazily as he drank from his smoothie.

Rory was sitting on the sofa, her eyes focused on some spot before her.

'I'm covering the ob-gyn ICU this week,' Rory uttered, sounding dispassionate.

'O-kay?'

Tristan adjusted so that he was half-facing her. She looked numb. He rose a brow.

'Not okay?'

Rory took a breath and opened her mouth to answer but then paused and exhaled instead.

'Not okay,' he nodded slowly, answering his own question.

He took another sip from his smoothie.

'Oh, I got it. You're covering the ob-gyn ICU. Where the complicated pregnancies and births end up. And you're pregnant. You're probably projecting, right?'

Rory gave him a look. He shrugged.

'Hey, I'm as sensitive as that. Plus I'm just coming out of a four-hour stab abdominal trauma. Teasing Paris for four hours can be pretty exhausting if also very rewarding.'

Rory tilted her head to the side and shook her head questioningly. Tristan rolled his eyes and sat up straighter into the sofa.

'Okay, so you're gonna make me play Dr Phil? Fine.'

He blew his cheeks and blinked a couple of times, looking for a way to approach the topic.

'Eh... I guess something spoke to you.'

He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his neck.

'You related to a patient maybe?'

Rory's face rearranged with apprehension.

'You did!' Tristan exclaimed then righted his expression. 'Sorry. This feels like 20 questions. Okay,' he exhaled and put his smoothie away on the table, leaning both elbows over his knees. 'So, something spoke to you. This patient... what's her name?' he lowered his head, looking to meet her eyes.

Rory let out a sigh and her hands fidgeted in her lap.

'Georgia.'

'Okay,' Tristan nodded slowly. 'Tell me about Georgia.'

'Nevermind,' Rory shook her head. 'It's stupid.'

'Hey, have you met me? I'm all for stupid. Hell, I'm the poster image for the Equal Rights For The Stupid movement. No judging.'

That managed to crack a smile from Rory.

She rested back into the sofa, folding her arms before her chest thoughtfully.

'Georgia had peripartum cardiomyopathy when she had her first child. This was three years ago. She didn't fully recover afterwards and was advised not to consider next pregnancies but she wanted to have more children so strongly, she decided to take the risk. Six months ago she gave birth to twins and her ejection fraction is twenty percent at best. She's currently waiting for a heart transplant.'

Tristan nodded, his expression serious.

'I've been talking to the woman for days now and she never once complained,' Rory let out a sigh and shook her head. 'She's thirty-two years old and waiting for a heart transplant with three children and a husband at home to wait for her and she's been thanking good heavens for the blessing of having three healthy children.'

Tristan scratched the back of his head and rested back with his arms before his chest, mirroring Rory's position.

'Sounds like a devoted mother,' he said thoughtfully.

'I can't imagine myself ever wanting to make such a sacrifice,' Rory admitted.

Tristan arched an eyebrow and turned his head to look at her.

'Do you feel like you should?'

'I mean... look at me,' she groaned. 'I'm hardly an example of a model mother-to-be.'

'What is a model mother-to-be?'

'Oh, you know.'

'Actually, I don't. Come on, tell me.'

'You know, those happy self-content women who love to put a palm over their protruded bellies and feel like their mission in life is to nurture a healthy chubby kid,' she said with timid disgust.

Tristan smirked.

'Well, there are those.'

'You're not very helpful,' Rory chastised.

He chuckled.

'But I am trying.'

'Yay.'

'Your lack of enthusiasm is impressive,' he rose an eyebrow. 'Why are you comparing yourself in the first place?'

'I don't know. I just...' she shrugged with a groan.'I feel weird. Like I got drafted by the national synchronized swimming team and any moment now they're gonna find out I hardly know how to flap my hands in the water. I mean, what if I get eclampsia or pop an aneurysm giving birth? Or what if I'm totally incompetent as a mom, being indifferent to my own flesh and blood and falling into heavy postpartum depression not wanting to have anything to do with my child? Or what if the baby hates me because I'm not willing to get a heart transplant for my peripartum cardiomyopathy or donate my kidney to save my kid from renal hypoplasia? Or what if...'

'Whoa, whoa, whoa,' Tristan cut in. 'This is a lot of what ifs. Just,' he put a hand up, palm out. 'Give me a second.'

'But-'

'Uh-huh,' Tristan shook his head. 'Now we sit in amicable silence until I can scramble my brain off my skull.'

'But I-'

'Amicable silence,' he said, resting back and closing his eyes.

'What?.' Rory made a face. 'Oh whatever.'

They rested back for a while. Then Tristan broke the (hardly) amicable silence.

'You know someone else who got stuck in too much thinking and no action? Hamlet.'

'Hamlet.'

Really, Tristan?.

He shrugged.

'Being a parent is doing lots of action and trying not to mess things up completely. There's never an ideal way to do stuff right. You do what you feel is right and hope it turns out to be good enough.'

'Did you just compare parenthood to one of the most tormented tragedies written in human history? Boy, you sound like Paris.'

'All I'm saying is you better trust your instincts on this, too much thinking kills the ability to act. Do what you feel is right, if you stop and think about it every two seconds, it's only gonna get more and more confusing. You will make mistakes, but if you can forgive yourself when you mess up, you'll learn as you go.'

Tristan leaned forward over his knees, licking his lips thoughtfully.

'When I entered the papers for Aiden's adoption, it was the first thing that came to mind, an impulsive decision. I didn't stop to think about it, it was just something that felt right at the time. Later on, as the procedure took longer and longer to pull through, I started questioning the reasoning behind my decision. What was I doing, the reformed bad boy issuing papers to become the single parent of a narcotrafficker's child, a child who was going through some life-shattering trauma and was possibly gonna be targeted as next mob's attack victim. It was insane,' Tristan shook his head with a thoughtful smile.

'It was,' Rory nodded.

'It's still the best thing to ever happen to me.'

'Edifying,' Rory sighed.

Tristan's lips stretched into a smirk.

'What I mean is, I guess some things just happen because they happen. They don't come with a memo whether they'll change your life or not. Maybe your life can never get back to how it used to be before, the thing is you can't know that in advance. I think you're trying to control what happens with your future through those fears you rationalize, but it's only gonna make you feel more confused. You got a lot going for you right now, and even if you screw up majorly, I think you're still gonna have a lot going for you. So yeah...'

He hung his head between his shoulders before he pressed both palms against his knees and pushed himself up into a standing position.

Rory had only witnessed this transition once or twice, when he seemed so deep in thought that he forgot to pull off the playful exterior and that sadder, more vulnerable version of Tristan emerged. His blue eyes seemed layers deep, staring ahead but she suspected in fact they were staring backwards, reminiscing.

Rory looked at him. Really looked at him. And she thought he had a lost world beneath the layer he peeled off every now and then. The whole comic relief macho persona was built up carefully, consistently, almost religiously. But it was a distraction. Because beneath it, there was a man who had fought and lost, a man who was aware of how many fears he had buried beneath, and was set on keeping them deep down. She could see why Paris gravitated towards him. Tristan Dugray had a generous heart. He had the power to forgive. He faced his mistakes and instead of power-fighting his conscience, accepted what he could learn from them. He was far from perfect but he lived his life so that he didn't hurt people and did his best to love them as best as he could. And this was somehow admirable.

'You promise it will be okay even if I screw up?' she asked.

He smirked.

'I promise no such thing.'

'I can't begin to praise your support,' she said sarcastically.

'Hey, no one said you're gonna be alone when you screw up. You've got a bunch of dorks who're gonna watch from the front rows and step in to share any humiliating experience.'

'Yay?'

'What are friends for,' he gave her a wink and took his smoothie from the table before walking out of the break room with a brief salute.

'You're supposed to support me,' Rory paced to and fro in the kitchen of their rental, feeling restless. How dare he tell her whether or not she should be working?

'And what do you think I've been doing, playing polo?' Jess answered, matching her agitation.

She was being irrational. Crazy-stubborn-hormonal-Rory irrational.

'You're putting more fears into my head when I'm already scared enough!'

He lifted his hands in the air, stepping towards her in an attempt to reach out for her but she stepped back and he put his hands in the back pockets of his jeans with a sigh.

'I'm trying to take you away from an environment that feeds those fears,' he insisted.

'You're stopping me from facing those fears, that's what you're doing!'

'Just listen to yourself,' he shook his head. 'You've been attending to some very ill pregnant women, freaking out for days. You're hurting yourself and I'm not gonna sit back and watch by.'

'I was doing just fine when you weren't trying to make my choices for me suggesting I should take some time off.'

'I'm done watching idly, it's high time I intervene.'

'No it's not.'

'Jeez, Rory. Just look at you, you're in need of help and you're stubbornly declining it.'

'Do you think I'll make a choice that will endanger the baby, is that why you're so concerned?'

'Don't turn it around like this,' Jess exhaled with frustration. 'This is not a war, Rory. It's not a competition of who makes the right decision. I'm in this as much as you are. We're making those decisions together.'

'Oh yeah? Because it's your body that's ticking like a goddamn bomb, changing with every minute, being pushed to its limits.'

Jess inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to pace his frustration.

'Rory, you're not a ticking bomb, you're a healthy woman who's going through with her normal pregnancy.'

'Well so was Georgia.'

'Who is Georgia?'

'That's the thing, you don't understand.'

'How can I understand if you won't talk to me?'

'I'm trying to tell you I'm okay but you won't listen.'

He hung his head back, letting a breath out slowly. God help him, he was trying to be patient but her stubbornness was eating on his nerves.

'Will you cut the fake bravado and tell me what's going on?'

'I'm just... tired,' she folded her arms before her chest, chewing on her lower lip. She was far from tired. She was freaking out and she wouldn't even talk to him about what made her feel this way.

Jess wet his lips and made a step towards her.

'That's exactly why I want you to get some rest and not be around every complicated pregnancy case in a two thousand miles radius. Please, Rory. Let me take care of you.'

'Me or the baby?' she asked defiantly.

'Both.'

But especially you. Can't you see that without you, I have nothing?

Jess ran both hands through his already messy hair.

'I'm not gonna apologize for looking out for you. Please believe me when I say that I've been worried about you. Let me take care of you. Just... dammit, just let me. Please.'

Rory looked up at him, her blue eyes rapidly welling up.

'I'm scared,' she admitted quietly.

His whole posture deflated and he closed the distance between them with two wide strides. He pulled her in for a hug, gathering her in his arms, her head pressed into his chest.

'I know. But it's gonna be okay. Just try and trust me on this okay?'

She sniffed, locking both of her arms around his waist, relaxing into his hold.

'Everything's changing.'

He stroked her hair, resting his chin on top of her head, tucking her more into him.

'I know.'

'I'm not a selfless person,' she said quietly. 'I'm not one of those women who waited their whole life to fill the role of a mother.'

'Okay.'

'I don't know if I'll be enough,' she admitted in a small voice, hardly above a whisper.

'Together we're gonna rock this parenthood thing,' he promised.

'How do you know?'

'Because we'll figure it out as we go. We'll forgive each other when it's harder than we expected and we'll learn from our mistakes.'

'I love you more than anything,' she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

'More than coffee?' he asked in playful disbelief.

She smacked her fist against his chest, shaking with something between a sob and a laugh.

'Only a tad more.'

'That's... encouraging,' he smirked. 'See? Piece of cake. Think about the depths of love we'll teach our kid. We'll be cool like that.'

She held onto him tighter.

'Okay.'

He let out a relieved sigh, pressing his lips into her hair.

'Good girl.'

TBC