A/N::: I had two words for this, because I couldn't decide which to choose =P

Read and Enjoy! And review!

Doppelgangers and Dacryops

Twin; exact clone—excess swelling of tears

Cammie POV

The pain started when I was in the kitchen, balancing six cans of Coke with my stomach and chin.

I know it sounds crazy, but I have an explanation. Tension was building between Zach and Grant about their last mission together to South Africa, blaming each other for their own faults. So I decided I'd had enough; I walked out, straight to the kitchen, waddling as best as I could with my pride still intact (yeah, pregnancy does that to you), giving off the intention of wanting to be left alone.

After the door swung shut behind me, I leaned against the sink, panting. Even walking a couple steps was getting tough, being nine months pregnant and all. My stomach was a round bulge, on the verge of bursting. And yet, this baby keeps on kicking, hence the black bags underneath my eyes. Honestly, if it wasn't for my constant mood swings and random outbursts, I'd be constantly anxious and jumpy, just waiting for this baby to pop out of me.

"Any time now, kid," I murmured, rubbing my bloated stomach. Ever since our hysterical moments, Zach and I have gotten over the fear of hurting our child. It was hard at first; I almost had a panic attack, for fear of damaging my unborn child. But when it was obvious I wasn't going to do it any time soon, Zach had tricked me into it.

"Hey Cam," he asked out of nowhere as we watched a (not the actual whole truth) documentary on Bill Clinton's life, "is it normal for my hand to have a line running from my middle finger to my wrist?"

"What?" I asked, completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know when people read your hands and tell you life span and junk by those lines? Well, I have I long one running from my middle finger to my wrist." I frowned, examining my own palm.

"I don't have one," I replied. I tried to peek at his, but he held it at an angle so that it was just out of sight.

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "Unless this hand isn't mine, I don't have a line running from my middle finger to my wrist."

"Here, let me see." I held out my palm, curious to see if I missed something. He held it, my palm facing him, his forehead creasing with confusion. "Huh. Well, it's good that you don't hon."

"What do you mean? I thought you said—" I couldn't even finish my thought, my eyes going wide at the sensation of a round, warm bump, Zach's hand over my own.

"See, Cammie?" Zach whispered softly as I looked on, frozen out of fear. "You're touching the baby, and it's not dead." I tried to speak, tried to communicate how angry I was that he tricked me, tricked me into killing my baby. But I just sputtered, the truth dawning; I hadn't killed it. It was still kicking, and I could feel it beneath my hand.

My eyes became moist, my emotions fragile. But they were tears of joy and gratitude. I was finally able to touch my baby. My baby.

"Thank you Zach," I whispered.

And now, it was normal, almost subconscious, that I rub my stomach at least three times. I realized that I had stormed into the kitchen without purpose, if only to escape to tension. So I took out the last six cans of Coke, going through a couple stages of carrying them. I tried cradling them, but they were too cold. We didn't have a tray of any kind, so I had to carry them all. I could take three and come back, but I'd be too tired, and I want to do it on my own (it's a Morgan thing). So I looked down, and realized that I had my own personal tray. It was in the way of my feet (which I haven't seen in weeks!).

I placed two on my stomach and proceeded to stack them cautiously, wrapping my arm around the two by three stacks of cans, the middle row held down by my chin. I grinned as best as I could, congratulating myself mentally for such a creative way of carrying soda.

But when I turned to the door, I stepped in a puddle. I frowned, unable to look down, wondering what had spilled.

"That's funny," I murmured to myself, "I could've sworn I was just standing there—" I stopped, realization hitting me as my eyes widened. And one thought hit my mind through the mass; my underwear is wet. My underwear is wet!

That's when all Hell decided to break loose. I dropped all the cans immediately, the fact that my water just broke striking me as just a bit more important. The cans then exploded on impact as they hit the grounded, the linoleum covered in brown fizz.

That's when Zach stormed in, his eyes wide in worry, my name coming out of his mouth, asking me if I was ok. Since I was wearing a dress, and my back was to the counter, he couldn't tell that my water just broke. Instead, he saw me standing in the middle of a soda-covered floor.

"Cam, what happened?" That British accented voice belonged to Bex, who appeared behind Zach, Grant jockeying behind her for a better view.

"Oh nothing much," I pant, nearly breathless as I say, "just that my water just broke and I'll be going into labor any second now," and emphasize every word, not exactly screaming but not exactly soothing either. A second after, I add "Oh, and sorry about the mess. Out of refreshments." They stared at me as if I'd grown another head or two, probably wondering why I wasn't hysterical in a moment of hysteria.

"Bloody Hell!" Bex shrieks. "It's time! Lizzy, it's time!"

"I'm gonna be a godfather, finally!" I heard Grant cheer.

"No, I'm going to be the godfather, Grant!" I heard Jonas counter.

"Nu-uh! I am! Just ask—"

"Shut up!" Zach yelled, voice hoarse, already by my side, guiding me to the living room to get outside. "My wife is in labor, and if you two goddamn idiots don't get yours asses in the car with all the stuff, I'll make Preston the godfather!" We were already making our way to the door, and I could hear Bex barking orders, and Liz probably hacking into the stoplight signals so all we hit are green lights (like she promised). But I said nothing, focusing on the journey ahead.

Well, truth of the matter is, I'm in panic mode right now. But don't worry. I'll freak out alongside them eventually.

My nails dug into the passenger's head rest, resonating a loud screeching as Zach drove at least twenty miles over the speed limit.

"Zach!" I yelled, because I didn't know what else to do. "You better be driving this as best as you freaking can!" I was sweating and panting, trying to control my breathing like I learned.

"I am, Cam," he replied, hysteria edging his voice. This made me freak out even more.

"I'm going to end up having this kid in the new damn car if you don't hurry the hell up, Zachary Goode!" I screeched. The pain was nearly unbearable. And if these were contractions, I'd hate to be there, witnessing myself in labor.

"I'LL KILL YOU ZACH GOODE!" I scream. "I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY I WILL MURDER YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!" The pain was unbearable; it felt like my insides were being ripped apart. Zach had respected my wish weeks before to not give me epidural; I didn't want science interfering with my firstborn. But that was before I knew how much it hurt.

"I'm sorry, Cam! I thought it was a mutual decision," Zach said, standing beside me.

I grabbed his shirt, pulling him to me before he could struggle.

"When we get home, you are so dead, Goode," I manage to get out before a contraction rips through me. I scream, but Zach doesn't run or turn away, despite my threats. Instead, he holds out his arm, letting me dig my nails into his skin, my grip tightening as the pain continues.

"It's okay, honey," Bex soothes, running her hand through my hair, as though something as simple as that could take away all this pain. "You're almost done. You can do it, Cammie."

"Almost there, Cameron," the damn doctor says. "Just keep pushing." A scream escapes me as I do as he says, willing this to be over.

"Hey Bex, Liz wants to know—" was all I heard coming from Grant, who had burst into the room all nonchalantly, which just about pissed me off.

"GET OUT OF HERE GRANT BEFORE I MURDER YOU TOO!" His eyes widen before he's off, and I don't have the energy to feel remorseful.

"One more solid push, Cameron. Come on, you're almost there," the doctor ushers, and I give one last heave before feeling sudden relief, panting as though I've ran a marathon time two.

Sudden screeches fill the air, and it takes me a while before I realize it isn't coming from me, but from the nurses' arms, a small bundle in her arms.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Goode," the doctor beams, "you've delivered a healthy baby boy."

I give a weak laugh, sweat streaking down my face. "You hear that Zach? You're getting the son you've always wanted." I let my head fall back, glad it's all over, the adrenalin not quite yet drained.

"Would you like to hold him?" the nurse asks Zach. He looks at me for an ok, and I nod, letting my eyes close.

"He's…" Zach pauses, at a loss for words. "Beautiful," he finally whispers.

"I would like to think so," I hear myself murmur, my senses still distorted. I can hear the doctor get up and snap off his gloves, only to put on a clean pair.

"What are you doing?" I hear Bex ask.

"Oh we're far from done, Mrs. Newton," the doctor says firmly. I manage to crack my eyes open to narrow slits, believing my hearing is still off.

"Whaaa? I thought—I thought I was done…" I trail off, too tired to finish.

I can hear his surprise when he speaks next. "I thought… I thought you knew. You're going to be giving births to twins, Mrs. Goode." I could've sworn he said twins.

"Twins?" Zach asks, confirming my bad hearing.

"Yes," the doctor replies, almost hesitantly. And then I feel it. A contraction.

"Oh, my God," I groan, my earlier grogginess gone, adrenaline refilling my veins at a fast rate. "Twins," I repeat, "we're going to have two mini Za-ah!" I yelp mid-sentence, as another contraction strikes, this one lasting longer and worse. The bed takes the brunt of it as I dig my nails into the mattress, trying and failing at keeping my breaths in control, painful moans escaping me.

"Not necessarily," I hear Bex mutter, almost uncomfortably. She's now holding the already-borne child as Zach holds out his arm, already bright red and beaded with blood where I had already dug in my nails. This time though, I grip his arm, willing the pain away.

"Are you sure?" I hear him voice.

"Of course he's sure!" I yell. "I'm sure! Unless you think I'm faking these goddamn painful contractions!" I grip his arm as another contraction decides to strike, my body still thrumming from the last one. I resume back to my previous mood, knowing that although it hurt others, it took away some of my own pain.

"GODDAMN IT ZACH GOODE!" I screech. "I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU FOR DOING THIS TO ME!"

I wake up in a stupor, my vision blurry as I try to recall the last few hours.

Ah yes, I think, as I try to move my limbs, only to find them heavy with medication, my neck and head hurting. I was in labor for at least a whole day and gave birth… to two babies. Holy crap, two! I manage to groan loudly, hopefully loudly enough to rouse Zach, who is, no doubt, sleeping in the chair next to my bed.

"Cammie?" I was right, of course.

"Zach," I whisper, my throat parched. "The babies," I pant, still exhausted, "where are they?"

"In the baby ward. Here Cam, drink this." He puts a Styrofoam cup to my lips, and I don't object. The feeling of the liquid is relieving, surprisingly.

"Where is everybody else?" I ask, after getting feeling back into my limbs despite Zach's protests.

"All waiting in the waiting room. They're worried about you, Cam." He gulps loudly, and that's when I notice his red eyes, slightly puffy. He looks like Hell, bags underneath his eyes, his hair wild.

"I know," I whisper, even though I don't. But seeing Zach in this state, I can tell that if they even feel half as anxious as him, then they must be worried sick. "But I want to see my babies first," I say as firmly as I can.

I expect a battle, or at least an attempt against it, but Zach nods, pressing a button, calling a nurse. I close my eyes and nod off, Zach's fingers entwined with my own.

"I want to be the first to hold my grandson!" A loud, commanding voice booms, making me look up, only to see a woman who once was in charge of my schooling and life.

"Mom?" I mumble, disbelieving. I held the baby boy in my arms, cradling him ever so gently, Zach cradling the other. "How did you—"

"Don't underestimate a mother's instinct, Cam." Joe Solomon, my mom's best friend and my old teacher, pops into the doorway, sauntering in.

"Well if it isn't Joe Solomon," Zach mutters. I expect a snide remark, but again, I'm surprised as Joe smiles.

"Well, it looks like you two are falling comfortably into parenthood," he observes.

"Can I hold him?" Mom asks me. I let her carry her new grandson, my arms feeling empty.

Mom's eyes start to tear up almost immediately as she gazes at my baby as if he's the most beautiful baby she's ever seen. Because I know he is.

"Baby, baby, baby, baby!" I hear from the hall. A second later, Grant appears, alongside Bex, Liz and Jonas trailing behind. "Let me hold'em!" Grant says, holding out his arms to Zach.

"Shut up, loser," Zach says, but hands the baby over. Bex and Grant coo over our little girl, Liz and Jonas joining in.

"Have you named them yet?" Another voice asks. I look at the doorway and see Macey leaning against the doorframe in all her glory. She smiles at me, and when I shoot her a questioning look, says "Preston couldn't make it, being the President's son and all, but he sends his congrats."

"Glad you could make it, Mace," I say honestly.

"So have you?" she asks, walking in and closing the door behind her. She doesn't get far though, seeing as how the room became crowded in a matter of seconds.

"Have I what?"

"Named them," she repeats.

"Oh," I say. "Yeah. Their names are Matt and Abby." Mentioning the name of my deceased family would usually make me cringe, but now we, Zach and I, have decided to give the names new meaning, to hold joy and hope instead of sorrow and regret.

"That's great," Mom smiles, a sad smile. "You're father would be so proud, kiddo," she whispers, kissing me on my forehead.

"We all are," Zach says. "You were a real trooper, Cam. Made it through with little complaints as possible." Bex snorts but says nothing.

"That reminds me," I say quickly. "Grant, I'm sorry for yelling at you like I did. I didn't mean to."

Grant grins his happy-go-lucky grin. "Don't worry about it Cammie. You were in a stressful situation. It's totally understandable."

"Thanks for understanding, Grant." We all fall into silence, except for the occasional squirming from the babies.

"So what now?" I ask.

"Picture time!" Liz bursts.

"Of course," Jonas says, "we need to document this special moment. Liz pulls a camera out of her coat pocket, ushering everyone to gather around Zach and I, Zach holding Abby, and me holding Matt.

"Alright," Liz says, setting the camera down on a table across from me. "We've got ten seconds. Everyone smile!" We all waited, our internal clocks hitting eleven seconds, then fifteen.

"Lizzy?" Bex says, "Are you sure you put the timer?"

"Of course!"

"Then why—" Bex was interrupted by a loud and yet quiet yawn, that had come from my arms. I looked down to see Matt smacking his tiny lips together ever so slightly, emanating some Aws, all their eyes on the little bundle of hope in my arms, and I could literally feel all their eyes tear up at the sight.

"Picture perfect moment," Zach whispers beside me. Even his eyes, I see, are a bit watery.

"Yeah," I whisper. "Just perfect." Click.

A/N::: Started and finished this in four hours straight O_o Sorry for the mistakes . I tried to get this up ASAP

Show your appreciation by reviewing! :D