A/N: Yes, I'm sure everyone's aware I'm not the most expedient when it comes to posting these, but I hope you'll continue reading! Thanks for your support.

Chapter 14

Samantha heard the beeping sound of her heart monitor first, steady and rhythmic.

She knew she was awake, even if her eyes refused to open. A fluttering panic rose to her chest as she struggled to lift her hands to her face, and the beeping grew more rapid as her struggle ensued.

"Ms. Spade, please! It's all right, just relax now, okay dear?" Cool wrinkled fingers worked their way through her damp hair and encircled her face. Samantha tried to speak but her voice was too raw and hoarse to be heard. Her body jerked as a wet cloth dabbed at the corners of her eyes, but the moisture felt wonderful and awakened a desperate thirst she hadn't recognized until just then.

Her eyes flew open and fell upon the face of an aged doctor who smiled at her through the darkness of her room. "That's better, isn't it?" She noticed Samantha's cracked lips and reached for a cup of water and a straw. "You must be thirsty as anything. No, please, relax. Just sips, for now."

Sam had lurched towards the cup but as the doctor's words warned her, she felt a breathtaking stab of pain in her side. Instead, she waited for the straw to be placed on her lips and drank deeply. The cold water soothed her throat and allowed her to speak.

"Thank you," she said hoarsely. "Dr..."

"Franklin," the woman replied, smiling and removing Samantha's chart from the base of her bed. Her eyes scanned the monitors and she scribbled something down. "And you're quite welcome. Although it seems I should be thanking you. You've been an ideal patient for me these past few days. Surgery was clean and you've been healing impecably. I doubt you'll even notice a scar 10 to 12 months from now...

Past few days... Samantha swallowed. "How...how long have I been out?"

"A little over three days," Dr. Franklin answered, "You would have been conscious earlier except we needed to ensure the safety of your child before we could take any further risks in surgery."

"It's all right?" She asked weakly. The doctor smiled and nodded, and Samantha felt a surge of relief flood through her. "Okay...okay...thank you doctor..."

"Thankfully, your partner informed us of your condition before we operated, and absolutely no harm was done to the baby during surgery..." Samantha's eyes flew open. "Something wrong?"

"N-no," she mumbled, "my partner told you, you said? Who was...?" The doctor opened her lips to speak, then closed them.

"Now I must be losing my mind," she chuckled, lifting the chart again from the slot of Samantha's bed, "Old age is a terrible thing, Ms. Spade...ah, there we are...an Agent Jack Malone. He rode with you in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He's here now, if you'd like to see him. In fact, you've got quite a hoard of admirers waiting to see how you are, Samantha. If you're feeling well enough, I can send a few in at a time."

Truthfully, Samantha felt as if she could sleep for at least 24 more hours without waking, but she nodded briskly to the doctor who smiled and left the dimly lit hospital room. She could barely think, barely breathe. Thoughts whirled around her head like wisps of smoke and she could not find any order to them except...he knew.

She heard voices echoing down the hallway seconds before they came in. Their faces seemed to contain individual beams of light that made her eyes ache and her head swell. Thankfully, someone had warned them to talk softly to her, because their screams were muffled to gasps and sighs.

Sam couldn't interpret exactly what they all said, but she recognized their faces. Her mother, at her side, kissing her forehead. Her sister, Veronica, and her husband, next to her mother. Vivian stood at the base of the bed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and Danny beside her, and then Martin. She glanced up at him and he stroked her cheek gently and mumbled something she didn't understand.

And there, leaning against the doorway, stood Jack. He looked like hell. The bruises she remembered from three days ago still marked his face, and he favored his right knee. She suspected he was in a hell of a lot more pain than he let on, and suddenly began to cry. Her mother cradled her head and Martin squeezed her hand (his own was trembling slightly) and the air around her seemed not to be air but a suffocating gas and she could barely breathe. Jack bowed out of the room. He had not met her gaze when she'd looked at him.

He knew. They all knew. Her mother, her sister, Vivian, Danny, Martin, and now Jack. Suddenly, it felt as if a hand constricted around her heart as the course of the next few months seemed to plot themselves out before her very eyes.

Her mother, planning a lavish wedding within the time span of a month, before she started to show, of course.

The invitations flying out to all corners of the country.

Someone suggesting maternity leave, effective immediately.

Handing over her gun and her badge but it's only temporary, your position will be ready and waiting for you as soon as you're ready, no one would think of replacing you Samantha.

She would recover from the wound on her side and somewhere in the rush Martin would propose to her. Her mother has ordered the catering service before he's done so, and has reminded her of it even the hour before Martin picks her up for dinner at a ridiculously expensive restaurant.

He's paid a violinist who Samantha remembers seeing sleeping outside her building weeks earlier.

She opens her eyes again, and she's in a brilliant white gown with a bouquet of flowers, and barely breathing. She hasn't seen him in a month. He was the last to accept the invitation.

The organ swells and someone touches her shoulder...