A/N: Just to forewarn some of you, there is only one chapter left of this fic. Enjoy!

Charlynn

Chapter Eleven

Though time had passed to change both her physical appearance and that of her family, it had done little to alter Marissa Atwood's work routine. While her son had been at home with her, she would make her job fun for him, too, dancing with him to the music she had to sample in order to decide whether it was worth signing or not or playing games to keep him entertained. However, his toddler years passed by quickly, too quickly for both Ryan and Marissa's taste, and, before they knew it, their son was in school, and she had the long, uneventful, lonely days to herself again.

At first, she merely worked more, but it wasn't enough to keep her satisfied. Slowly, she started to incorporate new aspects into her daily routine. Instead of employing a maid, she took over the household chores, vacuuming and dusting, washing dishes and making beds, cleaning the windows and washing the laundry. When that still wasn't enough, she convinced Ryan to attend cooking classes with her, so she could learn how to make their dinner instead of always ordering it in or making something from a box. Initially, he had protested, but, by the end of the three month course, it was something they enjoyed so much, she was able to talk him into taking other classes with her…even succeeding in making him learn how to dance.

So, while August was at school everyday and Ryan at work, an executive after being with the company for twenty-two years, she not only performed the duties for her own job, but she took care of her house and her family as well. Her mother told her she was wasting her time and turning back the feminist clock, but Marissa insisted that since no one was forcing her to perform the household chores, she was doing no such thing. Summer said she was insane, that, instead of wearing old jeans, t-shirts, and flip-flops everyday, she should put on her best designer clothes and take up leisurely activities such as lunching at the country club, golfing with her friends, or even shopping. However, Marissa didn't enjoy wearing formal clothes any longer, she hated golf, and shopping, unless it was for her son, bored her. Even Kirsten objected slightly to her newfound talents, saying she was running herself ragged for no reason, but, what no one understood was that she took pride in performing the tasks she had been told all her life she wasn't expected to do.

Seeing wrinkled fingers when she finally finished washing the dinner dishes each morning made her giggle, staining the fine lines of her knees by kneeling in the dirt to plant her own flowers gave her a sense of rustic satisfaction …even if she made Ryan check the flower gardens weekly for snakes, and getting flour in her hair when she baked cookies for her son's holiday parties at school sent a warm, pleasant surge of accomplishment through her still nimble and fit body. She found washing, drying, and folding laundry to be relaxing, dusting, instead of becoming a chore, became a sensual dance she practiced for later viewing hours when she put on a sultry, slow CD to accompany the task, and making Ryan scrub their shower once a week…naked…while she sat on the floor and watched with a cup of coffee she brewed herself in her hand was something she looked forward to every Friday morning.

Yes, her life was simple, uncomplicated, even boring at times, but she lived for the effortless way happiness came into her existence. After eighteen years of drama, both the good and bad, in Newport, the everyday pleasures of life in San Diego made all her struggles and hardships worth it. Together, the three of them were happy, and it didn't matter if anyone else understood the reason why or not.

It had been more than nine years since August was miraculously dropped into their lives, and, though they had never gotten their third miracle, Ryan and Marissa were content. Their son had a joy for life neither of them had ever experienced in their childhoods. He could find beauty and fun in any situation, and, because of his optimistic attitude, he brought light into their lives. Always an over-achiever, he was already an honor roll student, delighting his parents with his zeal for learning and his ambition to know everything. He loved science and figuring out how everything around him could happen. With his father's strength and her enthusiasm, he was adept at sports and enjoyed spending time in the backyard with Ryan as the two messed around on Sunday afternoons either tossing around a football or practicing his golf game, something that horrified his father and amused her to no end. He had even managed to pick up on her love for music, perhaps because he had spent so much time with her while she was working when he was a child. Sure, he had his quirks and moments of questionable behavior, for example he was quick to snap back sarcastically when annoyed or pushed beyond his temper's limit, a trait his parents believed he learned from his Grandmother Julie, but Ryan and Marissa wouldn't change a single thing about their blonde haired, blue eyed nine year old son.

Just like every other afternoon, she was spending the day in the house, working on her paperwork in between her cleaning, and trying to battle the heavy, oppressive chill in the late January air. While another demo CD droned on in the background, one that was frankly getting on Marissa's nerves and one she would not be recommending for her company to sign, she was running the vacuum, preferring its rumbling and occasional churning when it swept up a rather large piece of debris over the supposed art drifting through the surround system in the entire house. She was just about to leave the family room to take the vacuum to the foyer to clean up the long flight of stairs, but something made her turn around one last time to glance at her phone, just happening to, in that moment, realize that it was ringing by its glowing face cover. Switching off the sweeper, she dashed into the room, picking up the cell just as the last strains of "When I Get Older," by the Beatles – a sarcastic, ring tone choice by her son to remind her that her birthday was coming up soon and she was going to turn 45 – began to fade. Flipping it open, she hadn't even taken the time to read the caller ID to ensure that she answered it before it went to voicemail.

"This is Marissa Atwood" she announced breathlessly. "Sorry it took me so long, but I was running the vacuum and couldn't hear the phone."

"Mrs. Atwood, this is the nurse at your son's school."

"Okay." Her tone was distracted, nervous, on edge. "Did something happen to August? Did he get hurt at recess; is he sick? What's wrong?"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm. Are you sitting down?"

"No, I'm not sitting down," Marissa yelled, already moving towards the front door where her car keys were waiting for her. "How can you ask me that right now? Just tell me what's happened to my son!"

"I really think you need to calm…."

"Do not tell me to calm down! This is my baby we're talking about, my only child, and, if something is wrong, I need to know what it is, and I need to know right now."

Taking a deep breath, the nurse started to explain. "We're not sure what's wrong. One minute he was fine, and the next thing I know I'm getting a hysterical call from the teacher on lunch duty this afternoon saying that August had passed out and wasn't breathing. We brought him back to my office, called 911, and we're waiting for the EMT to get here as we speak. It could be something simple, but, no matter what, if you could get down here…."

"I'm on my way," Marissa interrupted the heath professional for the second time. Saying nothing else, she slammed the door to their house shut, not bothering to turn off the CD that was still playing, to put a coat on her barely clothed body, or to lock the front door, and hung up on the woman she had only just been talking to. Immediately she dialed a number she knew well, a number she had known for the past twenty-two years. Although she prided herself upon being a strong, independent woman, this was one situation where she needed her husband at her side; she needed Ryan.

She was just backing out of the driveway when his secretary picked up the phone. It was exactly on the third ring just as it always was. "Nancy, I need to talk to Ryan right now."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Atwood, but he's in a important meeting at the moment."

"You don't understand," Marissa practically screamed the words. "It's August. Something is wrong with him; something is wrong with our son. He passed out and stopped breathing, and they don't know what's wrong. I need you to get Ryan. I…we….August needs him right now."

"Alright, listen to me, Marissa," suddenly the older woman's voice was firm and confident, and, in that moment, she took the weight of the situation upon her own very capable shoulders and took charge. "I need you to remain calm. Can you do that for August?"

In a strangled voice, the younger woman replied, "yes."

"Okay, that's good, honey, that's good. I'm going to send someone into the meeting right now to get Ryan. I'll have him meet you wherever you're going. Are you driving to the school or to the hospital?"

"The school."

"He'll meet you at the school then. However, for now," she continued in her calm, steady, soothing voice, "I want you to stay on the line with me. I want you to listen to my voice, to keep breathing, and to watch what you're doing very carefully, okay? We don't need you getting into a car accident on your way to see August. When he wakes up, he's going to want to see his Mom sitting beside him, and I'm going to get you there in one piece as long as you listen to me. Can you do that, Marissa?"

"Uh huh."

"That's great, honey, excellent." Taking a deep breath, Nancy continued talking to her boss's wife, offering him a sympathetic smile as he rushed past her desk on his way to the elevators despite never seeing her in the first place. "Do you remember the first time you brought little August here to see me? I do. I'll never forget that day. You had him dressed in a little pair of blue jeans and a simple t-shirt and a unbuttoned over shirt just like Ryan when's he outside of the office and dressed casually. You took him into Ryan's office to wait for him to return from an errand on another floor, and, while you were waiting, you figured out that August needed his diaper changed. Not knowing what to expect, you simply laid him down on top of Ryan's desk, crisp, finished blue prints and all, and, by the time you were done, those blueprints were not as crisp, not as clean, and definitely not as industrial smelling as they were before." She chuckled before continuing. "I'll never forget the look on your husband's face when he saw your apologetic smile and the gurgling little boy bouncing happily in your arms. That picture I snapped of the three of you that day still sits on my desk as we speak. You should bring that son of yours in here more," she suggested, smiling at the thought. "I miss seeing him and the three of you together."

"That's what we'll do then."

"What's that, honey," Nancy asked her, surprised that Marissa had said something.

"When everything is back to normal, when we find out that everything is alright with our little boy, our first stop is going to be to see you, to bring August with us into the office. Maybe we could even start coming in for lunch again once a week, just the four of us, you, me, Ryan, and August."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," the older woman agreed with her, sighing in relief that she had managed to calm her boss's wife down. "Do you remember the year you couldn't find a babysitter and brought him to the Christmas party with you?"

For several more minutes, the conversation continued, Nancy bringing up fond memories she shared with the Atwoods in an attempt to take the younger woman's mind off the possibly tragic situation facing her son while Marissa continued to drive, until she arrived at the school, parking her car in a rather precarious position right in front of the main entrance of the school. After mumbling a quick thank you and a promise to let her know what was going on, Marissa flipped her phone shut and ran as fast as she could into the school, not caring about her dilapidated appearance, the cold that was quickly numbing her vulnerable, exposed arms and toes, or the fact that she had left her car running for anyone to steal. Nothing else in the world mattered to her except her family, and, in that moment, it was threatened, leaving her with a sense of dread and fear she hadn't experienced in over nine years.

-+-

Ryan Atwood had always been a steady driver ever since his initial brush with the law, careful to follow the speed limit, use his turn signals, and obey all traffic regulations, but, as he rushed from his downtown office building to the private elementary school in the San Diego suburbs that his son attended, he knew he was damn lucky he didn't injure someone else or himself as he threw caution to the wind and drove like a man possessed to get to his family. His son was hurt or sick and needed him, his wife was worried and panicking, wanting him to be with her, and, if he were honest with himself, he needed to be with her just as much as she, undoubtedly, needed him. They had already lost one child, seen her taken away from them before they even had a chance to hold her and tell her how much they loved her, and he didn't know if they could survive the loss of a second child.

When he pulled into the school's parking lot, he noticed Marissa's haphazardly parked vehicle immediately, leaving his running in a similar precarious position. Nothing mattered except getting to his family. Somewhere along the lines, he had shed his tie and jacket, popping open the first several buttons of his pressed and starched white oxford shirt. Driving in his work clothes, he had felt caged, trapped, as if he couldn't breathe, and, unconsciously, his body had worked to free him of the restraints, tossing the clothing aside and not caring where they landed. With wide, long lunges of his powerful legs, Ryan covered the distance from the parking lot to the school entrance in mere seconds, swinging the doors open so roughly those watching feared the might be pulled from their hinges, but, as soon as he stepped into the chaos of the school's lobby, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Just in front of him he saw a smiling, laughing August being embraced by Marissa who was practically smoothing him with her incessant hugs and kisses. He could hear the unshed tears of relief and fear in his wife's voice as she repeatedly told their son how much she loved him, only stopping when the medical personnel insisted it was time to transport him to the hospital. She was to follow them outside, and, once they were in the ambulance, she could ride with them to the hospital or wait for her husband to arrive. Just as he would do in her position, Marissa insisted that she remain with their son, saying that she would be just a minute while she called her husband to let him know August was alright and they were on the way to the hospital to run tests. He knew he should speak up, call out to her and let her know that he was there, that she didn't have to call him, but, as he stood there rooted in place, his own eyes quickly filling with tears of happiness and peace at seeing the only two things in his life that mattered to him safe and sound, all he could do was say a silent words of thanks that his family was going to be alright and watch his wife as she turned around, caught his eye, and immediately started to move towards him.

But that's where his perfect world fell apart. Before he knew what was happening, Marissa was collapsing abruptly to the floor, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as his body leapt into action in an attempt to catch her. Just as she was about to hit the hard marble of the lobby, his arms encircled her slim waist and he fell with her, cradling her delicate body in his protective embrace and taking the brunt of the fall for the both of them. However, he didn't feel the sharp stab of pain that coursed through his ankle and up his right leg as he twisted his foot in a way it wasn't supposed to move, nor did he hear the screams and cries for help that the school staff voiced to the paramedics. The only things he was aware of was the fact that he had saved Marissa from getting hurt, that his son's eyes were suddenly clouded with fear, and that he was now battling alone to make sure both his wife and his son were safe.

Gently, he stood up with Marissa in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest as he quickly made his way outside with the EMT staff. He knew his ankle was sore, that walking on it was just going to exacerbate his injury, but he was running on adrenaline and nothing was going to prevent him from taking care of his family…not even his own weaknesses and injuries. If it was the last thing he did, he would protect both Marissa and August until the very last breath in his body expired. Luckily, for all three of them, the present situation would not require such an ultimate sacrifice. They were all going to be fine, just how fine though Ryan, Marissa, and August had no idea. They were all in for a surprise.

-+-

"Mr. Atwood," the doctor said softly as he let himself into Marissa's hospital room. She was still asleep, resting peacefully, despite having several tests performed on her body, and he was sitting beside her bed, holding her hand and running his free fingers through her long, golden blonde tresses as he whispered reassuring promises into the crook of regal neck. He had called Nancy and had asked her to come in and sit with a scared August while they ran blood work on him to determine why he had lost consciousness. She had been happy to help, bringing along with her a change of clothes for each of them in case they had to stay over night, and was currently in August's room listening to his endless chatter, medical hypotheses, and the occasional knock-knock joke. Every half an hour, she would bring a report to him about his son and then would carry back an update on Marissa to the little boy. Turning around in his chair, Ryan remained silent, but his eager, worry filled eyes told the doctor that he was ready to hear the news.

"Your wife is fine. In fact, she's in exceptional health."

Not satisfied with his response, Ryan pressed. "Then what happened back there at the school? Why did she pass out?"

"She just needs to take it easy, give her body the proper amount of rest that it needs. Women her in condition," the doctor explained, "especially when they're of Mrs. Atwood's age, have to take care of themselves, and, if that means they're not as active as they were before, then that's just a sacrifice they have to make."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Ryan stated exasperatedly. "What condition does my wife have? We were not aware that she was suffering from anything."

"Suffering is a strange form of expression to describe being pregnant," the doctor laughed.

"Excuse me?"

"I said your wife is expecting, Mr. Atwood." Realizing that Ryan was shocked by the news, he chuckled good naturedly and moved further into the room, taking a seat beside him. "You didn't realize she was pregnant then?"

"No," the younger man's eyes widened in shock. "We had no idea. When….how….I don't understand."

"I think we're both a little too old to explain the how," the doctor quipped unaware of their medical history, "but I can tell you the when. It appears as if the baby was conceived towards the end of November, putting your wife's due date at August 28th."

"This is impossible," Ryan laughed gleefully, his words and tone betraying the fact that the joyful news was starting to sink in. "I mean, after all this time, we just assumed this would never happen again. It wasn't even supposed to happen once, but twice, it's….it's amazing."

"Life always is," the older gentleman agreed with him reverently.

"But, there've been no signs. She's not showing yet."

"Many women don't show this early in their pregnancies," the doctor explained, finding the man's disbelief and awe to be entertaining and refreshing. So many people took such things for granted, but it was obvious that this couple did not belong in that category. "Don't worry, she'll start showing soon."

"She hasn't been sick, there have been no weird cravings, her back and feet haven't been bothering her, there've been no mood swings."

Snickering, the health professional teased him, "then you should consider yourself lucky. Mr. Atwood, every pregnancy is different. The various symptoms your wife displayed the first time she was pregnant might be replaced with new ones this time, especially since more than nine years have passed since she had her last child."

"Did Marissa passing out hurt the baby," Ryan asked hesitantly as if he was afraid to know the answer. "After what happened last time…."

"As far as we can tell," the doctor interrupted him, "your child is perfectly healthy. Now, I would recommend that you make an appointment with your wife's OB-GYN as soon as possible to get her started on prenatal vitamins and to have a sonogram just to make sure everything is how it should be, but our initial test results show that her pregnancy is right on track. However," he dropped his voice, drawing the younger man's eyes to his own, "I have a feeling something else is going on. Is there something I should know about, some medical history that could prove relevant to your wife's case?"

"The first time Marissa was pregnant," Ryan revealed slowly, letting his eyes travel from the doctor's to his sleeping wife, "we lost our daughter. She was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck."

"I don't understand," the health professional confessed. "According to your wife's medical history, she's only been pregnant once before, and, with your son…."

"We've raised our son since he was a few days old. His birth parents abandoned him, wanted nothing to do with him. In every sense of the word, he is our son….except for biologically. We were never supposed to be able to have children in the first place, and then, after we received this miracle, we lost it; we lost her, and now you're telling m that Marissa is pregnant for the second time, and I can't help but think that it could happen again, that we could go through all the preparation it takes to have a baby, the months of waiting and anticipating the moment when your child will be placed in your arms, only to be handed a stillborn baby again. Doctor, I don't think Marissa or I could get through that a second time."

"There are no guarantees in life, Ryan," the older man finally responded after a moment's thought. "There is always a risk in everything we do. A person can die unexpectedly sitting in a bomb shelter; it's possible, not probable, but still possible, just as it's possible something could go wrong with your wife's pregnancy, possible but not probable. You can't live your life constantly anticipating the 'what ifs.' If you do that, you'll never truly live. So, as a doctor, can I promise you that in seven months time your wife will give birth to a healthy child and they will both survive? No, I can't, but what I can promise you is that, in all likelihood, seven months from now you'll be, once again, changing dirty diapers, waking up in the middle of the night to feed a newborn, and eagerly counting down the days until you and your wife can have sex again. This is something to be happy about, Ryan, this pregnancy; this is something to celebrate. You and your wife are about to be parents again, and your son is about to become a big brother." Standing up, he moved towards the door, stopping just once to say one final thing. "Life doesn't get much sweeter than that. Congratulations, Mr. Atwood." With a simple nod of his head, he left.

It was well over an hour later when Marissa started to stir. Ryan merely watched her, an amused, content smile lighting up his exuberant face. It was late and the day had been hectic, but he was wide awake and unsure if he would be able to fall asleep for some time. Sleeping at that point, closing his eyes and missing even one second of the seven months ahead of them, seemed like such a waste of time.

Marissa's hands were the first to awaken. While her eyes remained closed, her long, nimble fingers felt his hands grasping hers, and they slowly tightened their grip around his touch. Next, her head started burrowing deeper into her pillow as if she was fighting consciousness, and then her nose started twitching. She always reminded him of an adorable bunny when she did that, and the thought of her resemblance to the furry animal made him smirk in amusement while he waited for the rest of her body to awaken before his loving eyes. Finally, her lids started to flutter, but he couldn't wait patiently any longer.

"Open your eyes, baby," he coaxed her, his voice warm and gentle. "I have some good news."

"August," she asked. Her tone was thick, raspy as if she was in desperate need of a drink.

Before he responded, Ryan stood up and moved towards the customary pitcher of water waiting in the hospital room and poured her a glass. Handing it her, he finally answered, "August is fine. They're running tests as we speak. They think he might have had an allergic reaction to something, closing off his airways and preventing him from being able to breathe. The sooner we find out what it was, the sooner we'll know what he has to avoid in the future so this doesn't happen again."

"I need to go see him," she insisted, attempting to stand up, but he was there to stop her, carefully easing her back into bed and making her lay still.

"You are going nowhere. You've been pushing yourself enough as it is. From this point on, it's going to be maids, gardeners, and takeout for you. August is fine. Nancy is sitting with him and keeping him entertained by letting him talk as much as he wants." Despite the situation, Marissa found herself laughing softly at her husband's comments. "I'm more concerned about you at the moment."

"Me? Why are you worried about me? I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he insisted. "You passed out, the doctor said that you've been stretching yourself too thin lately, and that, at your age, we're going to have to be careful."

"I get it," she threw up her arms in impatience. "I'm getting older. You and August have been making that perfectly clear while you taunt me about turning 45, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop my normal, everyday activities."

"That's exactly what you're going to do," Ryan contradicted her statement. "A woman in your condition cannot be pushing herself. If I have to tie you to our bed to make you relax and take it easy, that's exactly what I'm going to do!"

"Getting older is not a condition," Marissa exploded, glaring at her husband, "and if either of us is going to have to slow down, it's going to be you. I see how stiff you are when you wake up in the morning, how it takes you longer to stand up when August tackles you when the two of you play football in the backyard, how your hands becomes sore when you're working on your computer. I might be a few months older than you are, but you're so not aging gracefully."

"I'm not the one who's responsible for a little, precious life."

"What the hell do you mean you're not responsible for August," she yelled at him.

"I'm not talking about August."

His words still left her confused, but the intense almost profound expression in his cobalt eyes left her with hope. She hadn't seen that gleam in her husband's gaze in years….not since that fateful Valentines Day weekend when she had told him she was pregnant.

"What are you saying, Ryan?"

"I'm saying we finally got our third miracle. I'm saying that August is going to be a big brother. I'm saying that we're going to be parents again. I'm saying, you're pregnant, Marissa. I'm saying that we're going to have a baby."