A/N: Thanks to skzb and catsluver for keeping me in line and making me a better writer. :) Also, thanks to those of you who signed in as guests to review my story. Your reviews are very much appreciated and spur me on.
Chapter 8
The OB on call, a curmudgeonly man named Dr. Fenton, admitted TJ to the hospital immediately, and she was again put in a semi-private room. This time, to her relief, the other bed was empty, at least for the time being. Her bed was the closest to the door.
She'd been examined by Dr. Fenton, and a nurse had drawn her blood and asked her to give a urine sample. She had an automatic blood pressure cuff on her upper arm that squeezed her arm periodically and a pulse ox clip on her finger. Both devices were connected with cords to a monitor that showed her heart rate, oxygen saturation, and blood pressure.
They'd done a nonstress test and biophysical profile of the babies to monitor them and measure the volume of amniotic fluid. TJ had also been started on an IV with an antihypertensive medication to try to bring down her blood pressure, but she still felt like crap. She was lying with her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
The atmosphere in the room was unusually quiet, except for Dean's booted footsteps. He'd been pacing off and on and fidgeting. It was a few hours since they arrived at the hospital, well into the evening. He and Heather had been with TJ almost the whole time in her room, and they'd all been waiting what seemed like forever for someone to come tell them what was going on.
Finally, there was a sharp knock on the door and TJ opened her eyes. Heather, who was sitting in a chair by the bed reading her Kindle, stuffed it back in her purse and stood. Dean stopped his pacing.
"Come in," called TJ, the pounding in her head surging at the effort it took to say the words.
She was surprised to see Dr. Williams walk in the door instead of Dr. Fenton. Dr. Williams looked less frazzled than usual, and her blond hair was up in an elegant bun instead of sticking out willy-nilly from a barrette. She was wearing clothes that looked kind of dressy, like she'd been out to dinner or something. TJ was instantly afraid because she knew something must be really wrong if Dr. Williams had come in during her off hours.
Dr. Williams approached TJ with a smile that looked sympathetic, and TJ's spirits sank further. The doctor squeezed her hand in greeting. "Hey, sweetie. You can't catch a break, can you?"
TJ cut to the chase. "What's wrong? Are the babies okay?"
Dr. Williams looked at Dean and Heather curiously and then sought approval from TJ before answering.
"This is Dean," TJ informed wearily. "He's Sam's brother—my brother-in-law." She waved a hand at Heather. "This is my good friend Heather. It's okay to talk in front of them."
Dr. Williams nodded. "The babies are fine," she assured. "Their heartbeats are strong and the amniotic fluid volume is normal, which means their blood supply hasn't been affected."
TJ let out a relieved breath, although she knew that wasn't the whole story. "But? Is it preeclampsia?"
"Yes. We're ninety-nine percent sure it's preeclampsia. But, to be honest, preeclampsia usually doesn't happen this early, and it's usually not this sudden and severe. Still, your symptoms are classic. The good news is the health of the babies doesn't seem to be affected, at least not yet. As I said, preeclampsia can dangerously hinder blood flow to the fetuses, but that doesn't seem to be happening in your case."
Heather's arms were folded across her chest and she frowned with worry.
Dean stepped closer to the bed on the opposite side from Dr. Williams and squeezed TJ's shoulder in a show of support. TJ was grateful, but she suddenly wished with all her heart that Sam was there.
Dean's voice sounded gruff. "What did you mean by 'severe'?"
Dr. Williams began to answer Dean's question, but she was speaking to TJ. "Your blood pressure is off the charts. Frankly, I don't know how you've been walking around. You're dangerously close to having a seizure."
Dean's hand tightened on TJ's shoulder.
"In addition to that, your liver and kidney function have been impaired. You're in danger of going into kidney failure. That's one reason why you're so swollen."
TJ was listening but having a hard time comprehending what Dr. Williams was saying. She felt numb all of a sudden, in denial that things could be that bad.
Dean was ominously quiet, so Heather took up the conversation. "So what's the next step?"
Dr. Williams exhaled slowly and addressed Heather. "Well, first we'll continue with the antihypertensive med and see how she responds. In the meantime, we're going to put her on magnesium sulfate, which is an anticonvulsive medication to prevent seizures. We're also going to put her on a coritcosteroid to try to improve her liver and platelet function and hopefully help prolong her pregnancy. If we have to deliver the babies early, the steroid will also help their lungs to mature so that they have a better chance of survival."
Those words pierced through TJ's numbness. "What do you mean if you have to deliver them early?"
Dr. Williams looked apologetic. "TJ, the only cure for preeclampsia is to deliver the babies. If your life becomes endangered—"
"No. No way." TJ felt irrationally angry at Dr. Williams for suggesting that, even though none of this was the doctor's fault. "You're not taking those babies until it's safe for them, until they can survive."
"I understand how you feel, but—"
"No."
"Doctor," said Heather, voice annoyingly calm and rational, "what could happen if things get worse?"
"There's increased risk of eclamptic seizures, placental abruption, stroke, and possible severe bleeding if we can't get her liver and platelets functioning correctly. She may have to go on dialysis if her kidneys begin to fail."
TJ clenched her jaw. "I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes. I'm only 20 weeks. It's too soon. They won't survive if they're born before 24 weeks, right?"
Dr. Williams squeezed TJ's hand instead of answering the question. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm going to keep you in the hospital on complete bed rest—no sitting or standing except when absolutely necessary. And I want you to always have a nurse present when you do get up. We don't want to run the risk of you getting dizzy and falling. Okay?"
TJ pressed her lips together tightly and didn't respond. She knew she was acting sullen, but she couldn't help it. This whole situation was really pissing her off—and scaring the crap out of her. She had a feeling Dr. Williams had avoided her question about the twins' survival on purpose. She didn't think TJ would make it to 24 weeks.
"Lying in a reclined position should help lower your blood pressure and increase blood flow to the placentas. As I said, blood flow to the babies doesn't seem to be a problem yet, but the bed rest will hopefully prevent any problems like that from developing. We'll also see how you do on the medications and go from there."
TJ nodded.
Dr. Williams spoke with caution. "Um, will Sam be here soon?"
TJ felt a pang of remorse. "He's in the middle of law school finals at Berkeley. He'll be here as soon as he can."
"Why do you ask?" said Dean. "Should he be here? I'm sure he can be here by tomorrow if things are that serious."
TJ shot Dean a warning look, but he ignored her and stared intently at Dr. Williams.
"I don't think things are that dire," said Dr. Williams. "I know how important those exams are. Just keep him apprised of things, and I'll let you know if he needs to come right away."
"It's only a few days, and then he'll be done," TJ explained.
"A week," Dean corrected in a stubborn tone.
"It's less than a week," TJ argued.
"Last I checked, six days was pretty damn close to a week."
TJ rolled her eyes.
Dr. Williams' expression was neutral. "Hopefully, things will be improved by then. It looks like you've got a good support system here, and there's really nothing Sam can do by being here. It's just that bed rest can get boring, and you could be on it for weeks. There's risk of depression."
"She has lots of friends," Heather interjected. "We'll take good care of her."
Dr. Williams nodded with satisfaction. "Good. All right. A nurse will be in soon with the other meds I spoke of to add to your IV. I'll be in to check on you as soon as I can tomorrow." She started unstrapping the blood pressure cuff from TJ's arm. "Let's give you a break from this for a while. Your pressure hasn't changed much in the last couple of hours. We'll keep monitoring it, but I don't think you need to wear this all the time. It'll make it harder for you to rest."
TJ suddenly felt bad for getting angry earlier, especially since Dr. Williams had come in during her evening off. "Thank you, Dr. Williams."
"You're welcome," she said with an understanding smile. "Hang in there."
TJ made the effort to smile back even though she didn't feel like it.
After Dr. Williams was gone, no one said anything. TJ felt like crying and was aggravated with herself for her weaknesses, both emotional and physical. Why couldn't her body handle being pregnant? Lots of women carried twins with no problem, so why was she having such a hard time? Her one consolation was that, at least for the time being, the babies were healthy. She prayed that her condition would improve, that she'd be able to carry them to full term, although Dr. Williams hadn't been very reassuring on that point.
If Sam were there, he would be freaking out. Of that, TJ was sure. He would see it all as his fault and start spouting off that ridiculous bunk about the demon blood again. The very fact that the babies were healthy despite her deteriorating condition would probably be proof in his mind that something supernatural was at play. It was another reason she didn't want to tell him, and she hoped things would be better by the time he came home.
Heather gave a slight, subtle nod in reaction to something Dean must have conveyed to her, then put her arms around TJ and gave her a hug. "I'm sorry you're having to go through this."
TJ's chin trembled and her voice sounded annoyingly pitiful when she spoke. "Thanks." She cleared her throat, trying to regain control before she completely lost it and started blubbering.
"I'm going to go get some sandwiches. Can I get you anything?"
TJ's voice was stronger this time, and she forced out a small smile. "No, thanks. I'm okay. I think they will probably bring in a dinner tray soon."
Heather nodded. "Okay. I'll be back in a bit." She left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
TJ couldn't look at Dean. She was embarrassed and felt guilty and hated the silence that was stretching between them. He was still standing close to her, and she could smell the Firestone store on him—grease, oil, and tire rubber. He hadn't even had a chance to change clothes before he'd had to take her to the ER.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?"
She let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears threatening again. "For putting you in this situation, for dragging you to the hospital after you've been workin' all day. I know you're probably tired."
She felt the edge of the mattress dip and suddenly his arm was around her, giving her a brotherly hug. It was comforting and so much like what Sam would do that she suddenly missed Sam with an ache that caused her chest to constrict painfully. She couldn't hold back any longer, and hot tears ran down her cheeks. She turned into Dean and hugged him back in desperation. "What am I gonna do, Dean?" she said into his chest.
"Get better." His voice was a gruff rumble that she could feel vibrating from his chest.
"They'll have to cut off my wedding rings."
"Maybe not. Maybe the drugs and the bed rest will make the swelling go down."
"What about my finals? They start in two days. There's no way I'll be able to take them."
"You'll explain what's happening to Dr. Rostom and the rest of your professors, and they'll make some sort of arrangement so you can take them when you feel better."
"What if that's not for a long time?"
"They're not gonna let all your hard work this semester go down the tubes. Sam says Dr. Rostom thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. I bet he'll go to bat for you." He handed her a tissue from a box of Kleenex on the bedside table.
She blew her nose. "How will Sam and I pay for all of this? Bed rest in a hospital will cost a fortune. Our crappy insurance policy isn't enough."
"It'll be okay. I'll help if you need it, and don't you think your parents will, too? Plus, Sam's annoyingly smart. He'll figure somethin' out."
She hated the thought of having to ask Dean or her parents for financial help and knew Sam wouldn't want to do it, either. It wasn't like Dean or her parents had a lot of extra money lying around.
Her head was still hurting, and she felt drained and overwhelmed by it all. Dean handed her another Kleenex, and she wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
He tightened his arm around her. "Everything will work out."
To her horror, a fresh batch of tears began to fall. "What if it doesn't?" she croaked. "What if I can't even make it to 24 weeks? And even if I do, that's the bare minimum, Dean. The babies could have all kinds of health problems and developmental delays if they're born that early."
"Don't, TJ. Thinking about all that will only make you more stressed out, and you're probably worrying about something that won't even happen. Just take it all one day at a time and see how it goes."
"Sam's gonna be furious. I'm sorry I'm draggin' you into this."
"You gotta tell him, TJ, or let me. What if it was reversed? What if he was the one in the hospital and no one told you?"
"I'd be pissed, and then I'd drop everything and come a runnin'. And that's exactly what he'll do. We have to wait, Dean. It's just for a few days."
"A week," he said with emphasis.
She ignored that. "He'll think it's the demon blood."
The words hung in the air for a moment, and then Dean spoke. "He'll kill me if I don't tell him, TJ."
"No, he won't. I'll explain to him that I begged you, that it's not your fault."
He snorted. "Like that'll make a difference. He trusts me with your life. What if..." He trailed off, but she knew he was worried she would get worse. Sam would never forgive himself for not being here if she had a seizure or something else happened, and he would never forgive Dean for not telling him. It could damage Dean's relationship with Sam beyond repair.
TJ felt sick to her stomach, the guilt twisting her insides into painful knots, but she didn't change her mind. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Please, Dean. I know what I'm asking you to do, what's at stake. But he needs to finish."
"Dammit," he said under his breath. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, and when he spoke, his tone was stern. "For now. I won't saying anything for now, but if you get worse—and I'm talkin' if you break a friggin' nail—the deal's off and I'm calling him. Understand?"
She nodded, knowing she'd won the battle, but it didn't make her feel any better.
XXXXXXXX
TJ was in her hospital bed wearing one of Sam's old T-shirts that fit tightly over her baby belly and a pair of her own drawstring pajama pants that were tacky but comfortable. The drawstrings were hardly needed anymore and were just barely long enough to be tied around her expanding waist. It was her standard bed-rest outfit, but she needed to get some maternity lounging-around clothes soon.
Her old pajama pants and Sam's tees had sufficed for bed until this week, but she was getting bigger by the minute. Besides, she wasn't vain and had never really cared that much about fashion, but now that Sam would be home soon, she wanted something cuter to wear. She already felt like a swollen blimp. No need to compound it by wearing dowdy, unattractive clothes.
She was playing the card game Go Fish with Dean and Heather, who came to visit after Dean got off work and ended up staying the whole evening. Heather was sitting on the foot of the bed, legs folded yoga style, and Dean was sitting in a chair between the two of them next to the bed. He and Heather were telling TJ how Rocket had raided an unattended picnic basket at the dog park yesterday evening while they were distracted. Rocket annihilated the entire dinner, basket and all. Dean had to make reparations, giving the angry victims—a yuppie couple who didn't even own a dog—forty bucks to cover all the damage.
"Well, what did they expect?" asked TJ. "It's a dog park, where dogs are allowed to run loose. Maybe not the best place to have a romantic picnic or leave the basket full of food unattended. That's just asking for trouble."
"Yeah, well. That damn dog. Sam owes me forty bucks," groused Dean.
"It's not Sam's fault," said Heather, one side of her mouth quirked in amusement. "We should have been paying attention."
It was evident by the look Heather shared with Dean that they'd been having their own romantic moment and that's why their eyes hadn't been on Rocket.
TJ smiled and picked up her cards, holding them with her hands resting on her belly. At least the growing mound was good for something. "Okay." She looked at Dean. "Do you have any sevens?"
"Go fish," he answered.
Heather smirked and shook her head at TJ, indicating he was probably lying.
TJ rolled her eyes. "Dean, if you lie, I'm gonna know it eventually because you'll have to ask for those cards."
He gave her an indignant look. "You saying I'm cheating?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
He placed his hand over his heart. "I'm crushed you'd think that of me, sweetheart."
"Hand 'em over."
Before he could, her cell phone rang. She set her cards face-down on the overbed table next to her winnings—she was kicking ass, as usual, which was why Dean was cheating—and picked up her phone. She saw that it was Sam and felt a combination of delight that it was him and dread that she might have to lie to him again. Just one more day. He had one more day, and his finals would be over.
She made her voice cheery. "Hey, Sam. How did your exam go today? Criminal Law, right?"
"Fine. TJ, where are you? Where is everybody?"
She frowned, feeling a twinge of apprehension. "What do you mean?"
"I mean it's almost nine-thirty in the evening and no one is here at the apartment. Where are you? Are you out somewhere?"
Her heart stopped for a moment. "You're at the apartment?" She glanced at Dean and Heather, who both looked suddenly uneasy.
"Yeah. I finished my last final late this morning, so I got in the car and came home. I wanted to surprise you."
This was not good. She had planned to tell him everything on the phone during his drive to San Diego tomorrow, like maybe when he was a couple of hours or so out of the city. That way, he would have time to think about her explanation and maybe cool off a little before they all had to face him. "What do you mean your last final? I thought tomorrow was the last day."
"No. Not for me. I had my last one today," he repeated. "I wanted to surprise you. Where are you? I can come out and meet you."
She squeezed the phone tightly in her hand and bit her lip. "Sam, don't freak out. Okay?"
There was silence, and then his voice was calm—scary calm. "Why would I freak out, TJ?"
"I'm, um—don't worry. I'm fine."
"Why wouldn't you be fine?" Still calm.
She cringed. "I'm, um, in the hospital."
"What? Why didn't you call me? Did you just get there?" Not so calm.
"Um, no. I think you should come here, you know, to the hospital. I can explain everything once you get here."
"Jesus, TJ! You think?"
Wincing at the anger in his voice, she told him her room number and what part of the ginormous hospital she was in. He clicked off the line without saying goodbye. Definitely not a good sign.
She tossed her phone forlornly onto the bedside table. Everyone was quiet until she drummed up enough courage to look at Dean. "So, I'd rethink askin' him for that forty bucks."
Dean's expression was grim.
"I'm sorry, Dean. This wasn't exactly how I wanted him to find out. I think you guys should go before he gets here. Maybe I can sort of defuse his anger some before you have to face him."
He shook his head. "I'm not leaving you to deal with him alone."
She had to laugh a little. "Dean, it's Sam. What's he gonna do to me? I'm more worried he'll be all broody and sullen and give me the silent treatment than yell at me. You, on the other hand...well, let's just say you're not pregnant with twins and all pathetic-looking, lying here on bed rest."
"I have a feeling I'm gonna wish I was," he grumbled.
Heather leaned toward the table and laid her cards down, then tugged on Dean's arm. "Come on. I think she's right. She needs a chance to talk to him alone."
Dean gave a short, reluctant nod and slapped his cards on the table. "Call me if you need anything or if Sam gets too bitchy."
"Thanks. I think he's a little justified if he does, though, don't you? Besides, we knew this was comin'. Time to face the music."
"Yeah," he said solemnly. He stood and jutted his chin to indicate the cards lying on the table. "Next time, I'm teaching you how to play poker. No more pansy-ass card games. You can save those for Sam."
She poked her cheek with her tongue, amused. "I'll still whup you."
"Dream on, sister. Dream on."
Heather smiled in that crooked way she had that seemed to somehow add to her beauty instead of detract from it. It sort of gave her an air of mischief and mystery, like she knew some kind of secret she wouldn't tell. She hugged TJ and then left with Dean.
After they left, TJ let out a long sigh. She knew Sam was sure to be pissed at Dean, and Dean didn't deserve it. Dean had really been there for her in the last week, had taken his responsibility to watch over her in Sam's place very seriously. Between Dean, Heather, Gretchen, Ralph, and some of TJ's other friends from school, she'd hardly had a moment alone. They hadn't given her a chance to get bored or depressed.
She felt like she was imposing on them all, had told them she didn't need company all the time, but they wouldn't hear of it. She suspected they'd kind of coordinated with each other so that someone would be with her most of the time except at night when she was sleeping. Despite her protests, she was glad they'd been there for her.
She was afraid.
She wasn't really any worse as far as her symptoms went, but she wasn't any better, either. Her blood pressure wasn't responding as hoped to the medication, and they had switched her to another one this morning. After only a week of bed rest, she was already weaker, and she had a feeling it wasn't all due to not using her muscles. Even a trip to the bathroom was laborious and difficult.
Her head still hurt and she still felt nauseous a lot. What worried her the most, though, was that her kidney function wasn't improving. She had a lot of protein in her urine and her output hadn't increased. She hardly ever needed to go, which wasn't normal for a pregnant woman at all.
A PICC line—a long, slender, flexible tube—had been inserted into her upper left arm and advanced into her body until the tip ended in a large vein in her chest near her heart. It replaced the regular IV because it was better for long-term administration of drugs. The line had two ports, one that the medical staff could draw blood out of so they didn't have to keep sticking her over and over, and one that they used to administer various drugs. Having the PICC line inserted was, in and of itself, depressing. It meant she was going to be in the hospital for the long haul.
At least one thing had turned out okay. Dean was right. Dr. Rostom and some of her other professors spoke up for her, and the powers that be at SDSU had arranged for her to take her finals in the hospital. Luckily, she had completed all her lab requirements before she was admitted and only needed to take the written components to her finals. Each of her professors either came in person or sent a teaching assistant to monitor her while she took the tests in her bed. She wasn't sure how she had done on them. Her head throbbed through most of them, and it wasn't like she'd felt much like studying. Hopefully, she managed to at least turn in something passable.
She was contemplating all this and didn't realize how much time had passed until she saw the door open. Sam pushed himself into the room and swung the door shut behind him. He seemed composed at first glance, but when he came closer, she could see that he was worried and definitely not happy with her.
His jaw was hard, his broad shoulders stiff, and his biceps bulged underneath his plaid shirt as he pushed the wheels of his chair. His hands were so big that they encompassed not only the hand rim of each wheel but also the tire itself, and there was something really sexy about that, something that turned her on. She loved his hands. They were so strong and capable.
She scanned the rest of him and noticed his left leg was bouncing up and down with spasms. She knew the spasms wouldn't do anything to help his mood and hoped he wasn't feeling the pins-and-needles pain that sometimes plagued him. She suddenly felt a little rueful for lusting after him.
He'd just finished an eight-hour drive, and she knew he probably hadn't stopped enough for breaks. Sometimes things like that caused his legs to be spastic. She wanted to coax him into lying down next to her because a change of position sometimes helped, but this wasn't the time. He was in no mood to be mothered.
He took her in, his eyes traveling over every inch of her, and then he focused the full wrath of his dark gaze on her face.
She cleared her throat. "Sam, I'm sorry. I—"
"Just tell me why you're here." There was a hard edge to his tone that clearly said she was in trouble.
"I...started feeling bad, started getting headaches, swelled up like the Michelin Man. Dr. Williams put me on bed rest."
He shifted his shoulders in agitation. "When?"
"Um, a few days ago," she hedged.
"How many days ago?"
She fidgeted. "Um...five?"
His face reddened and a vein stuck out in his neck. "Goddammit, TJ!"
She swallowed, guilt and a bit of fear warring within her. It seemed Broody Sam had been replaced with Thunderously Angry Sam. He'd never been this mad at her, had never yelled at her like that before.
His brow creased and betrayal was added to the fury in his eyes. "You promised me."
She looked down at her swollen hands, which were resting on her belly. "I know."
He was quiet for a long time, and she wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure whether he was ready to hear her explanation. Finally, he rolled closer to her bed and took her hands in his. It wasn't a loving gesture. He was inspecting them, but his touch still caused a thrill to run through her. She craved his touch whenever he was at Berkeley, was starved for it.
"Where are your wedding rings?"
She felt a stab of sadness and stared at her bare ring finger. "In my purse. They had to cut them off because my fingers were so swollen. The rings were cutting off the circulation."
"Look at me."
She did.
"What's causing the swelling?"
"Preeclampsia. It's when—"
"I know what it is."
Of course he would know. He'd probably researched every possible thing that could go wrong in pregnancy.
"It came on really abruptly," she said in her defense, but she knew it was a lame justification for not telling him.
"How bad is it?"
She sighed and glanced away, then forced herself to look him in the eye. "Bad."
Concern was etched in every line of his features. "How bad?"
"My liver and kidneys aren't functioning right—that's another reason I'm so swollen—and they can't get my blood pressure to come down."
"Are you in any pain?"
"Not really."
He gave her a stern look, and she knew she should come clean. "Just some pain in my abdomen sometimes and a headache that never really goes away."
"Have you had any seizures?" he asked.
Yep. He'd researched it.
She shook her head. "They have me on an anticonvulsive med to prevent seizures."
He exhaled harshly, let go of her hands, and gripped his tires. "Dammit, TJ. You should have told me."
"I wanted you to finish your finals. I knew you'd leave Berkeley if you found out."
"I'm not going back." He was obstinate, jaw squared.
She raised her brows. "Oh, yes, you are."
His expression was stony. "No, I'm not."
She didn't like the finality in his voice. "Sam—"
"How can I, TJ? Every time I leave, you get sick, and then you lie to me about it. How am I supposed to trust anything you tell me? You promised me!"
He had every right to be furious with her, but his words rubbed her the wrong way, even if they were true. She could feel her anger rising. "I take it back, then! I shouldn't have made that promise, Sam!" She could feel her heart start to thump in her chest. "When it comes to you, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're happy, that you don't throw your dreams down the drain because of me!" The usual dull ache in her head was now a booming jackammer, and her vision blurred. She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes, wincing.
"Shhh. Easy, TJ. Just take it easy."
There was a beat of silence, and then, out of the blue, a tinny male voice came from the call panel on her bed. "What can I get you, TJ?"
It startled her, but then she realized Sam must have pushed the call button.
"Get someone in here to check on my wife," Sam ordered with urgency. "Her heart rate is too high."
"I'll be right there." It was Alex, the male nurse that was usually on the evening shift. TJ was getting to know most of the nurses pretty well.
She opened her eyes and looked at the monitor that she was always connected to by the pulse ox clip on her finger. She was so used to the feel of it that she'd forgotten it was there. The sound on the monitor was turned off so it wouldn't bug her, but she could see that her heart rate was sky high, which meant her blood pressure probably was, too. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to get herself calmed down.
Alex, a big burly guy with a buzz cut, burst into the room. He was wearing dark-blue scrubs and was the furthest thing TJ would ever think of a nurse looking like. He looked more like a biker with his tattooed arms and gold earring in one ear. He glanced at the monitor, grabbed the automatic blood pressure cuff that hung by the bed, and immediately put the cuff on TJ's upper arm.
She felt the familiar, almost painful tightening of the cuff on her bicep. It was connected to the monitor and, after a minute, gave a reading of her blood pressure. Her pressure was way too high, but at least her heart rate had gone down a few beats.
"What's got you so riled up?" asked Alex. His eyes shifted to Sam, taking him in, suspicious.
Sam clenched his jaw and glanced down, looking remorseful.
TJ closed her eyes and breathed, reaching out to Sam with her hand. He gripped it and it was soothing, despite the tension that was between them. "It's okay," she said, trying to reassure him.
Alex spoke. "I'm going to call Dr. Williams and let her know what's happening."
TJ opened her eyes and saw that Alex was studying the monitor with a frown. She tried to give him a smile. "I'm feeling better. I'm okay."
"Uh-huh." Alex's mouth curved skeptically. "How about some Tylenol for that headache?"
"Yeah. That'd be good." She knew from experience it wouldn't make the headache go away completely, but sometimes it took the edge off. And Tylenol wouldn't hurt the babies.
He left to get the medicine and call Dr. Williams.
Sam was still holding TJ's hand and she closed her eyes again, glad that he was there, even if he was mad at her. She was surprised when she felt his lips on her palm. She wasn't sure if it was a silent apology or just him saying that he still loved her, but either way, it was calming.
Alex came in the door again a few minutes later. "All right," he said, handing TJ the Tylenol and a cup of water. "Bottoms up."
She took the pills. When she was finished, Alex pressed a button on the bed panel and started to lower her mattress to a flatter position. "Dr. Williams said it's bedtime. You need to lie almost flat for a while. It'll help lower your pressure. Sorry, but we have to leave the cuff on for the next hour to see how you do."
"Okay."
Alex turned to Sam. "So, you must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Alex." He offered his hand to shake.
Sam obliged and gave a polite, faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nice to meet you."
"TJ talks about you all the time. Mostly good stuff," he added with a wink.
TJ smiled.
"Dean, on the other hand—he didn't have much good to say."
Alex was teasing, of course, but Sam stiffened at the mention of Dean's name. "Really?" Sam said quietly, humoring Alex.
"Don't worry," said Alex in commiseration. "I have an older brother, too. He's a complete asshole."
The corners of Sam's mouth twitched into the semblance of a quick smile, like he was going along with Alex, although he clearly wasn't in the mood to joke around—or talk about older brothers.
Alex straightened TJ's covers and patted her forearm. "You comfortable?"
"Yeah."
He seemed satisfied and then smiled at Sam. "Great meeting you." Sam gave a quick nod. Alex walked toward the door and then paused, eyeing TJ over his shoulder. "I'll be back in an hour to check your pressure. If it stabilizes, we can take that thing off."
"Okay. Thanks."
He left, and a silence stretched between TJ and Sam. Sam was staring at his leg that was still jiggling, his face unreadable.
TJ made an opening in the covers and patted the mattress. "Lie down with me."
He looked up at her.
"Please."
He held her gaze for a second and then pushed the overbed table out of the way. He locked the brakes on his chair and braced himself, one hand on the mattress and one on his chair. He pressed down a bit and then paused, looking at his spasming leg. The spasms sometimes made it harder for him to transfer, but he must have decided it was okay because he shifted onto her bed without any problem.
She rolled onto her side to make room for him, her back to him, making sure there were no kinks in the tubes going to the PICC line, since she was lying on her left side. She wanted him to spoon with her, wanted to cocoon herself into his large body.
She felt him scooting and heard the rustle of movement, then felt him arrange the cord from the blood pressure cuff so he wouldn't be lying on it. The mattress dipped and rocked with the weight of him as he got comfortable and placed his legs in a suitable position. Then his body heat was enveloping her, his hand resting on her belly protectively, his head sharing her pillow, his chin on the crown of her head. She could feel the muted spasms of his leg and hoped for his sake they would subside soon, that lying down would help.
"Are your legs hurting?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer, and she knew that was a yes. She hated that he was in pain and lifted his knuckles to her lips for a brief kiss, then put his hand back on her belly.
"I'm sorry, TJ." His deep voice was muted and husky.
"For what? I broke my promise. I lied to you. You had every right to be mad."
Silence.
"But there's nothing you could have done," she reasoned. "All you would've been doing is sitting around twiddling your thumbs. There was no sense in you being here and missing your finals. Besides, Dean has taken very good care of me."
This time, Sam's silence was tense and palpable.
She exhaled in frustration. "Don't be pissed at him, Sam. He wanted to tell you, but I begged him not to, and believe me, it wasn't easy to talk him out of it."
Still no response.
"I think he only agreed once he saw that I wasn't getting any worse and there was nothing you could do by being here. He's been with me through the whole thing. He made sure I was never alone, worked it out with all our friends so that someone was always with me.
"You were alone when I got here."
"Dean and Heather were here when you called, but I told them to leave."
There was a wry note in his tone. "You thought it was better to weather the storm on your own?"
"Somethin' like that."
A moment passed, and then he changed the subject. "So what about the babies?"
She smiled to herself. "They're fine. Dr. Williams says they're perfectly healthy. I've been feeling them move."
He rubbed his hand over her belly.
She wondered what he was thinking, if he knew that delivering the babies would alleviate the preeclampsia. He probably did, and that worried her. "Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"If it comes to—I mean, if I get worse, the babies come first. Okay? No matter what, you have to promise me you won't let them be delivered too early."
Again, he was silent, and she could tell he didn't agree with her. She'd never known anyone who could say so much without uttering a word. His reticence made her uneasy. She wanted to make sure he understood how she felt. "Sam? Did you hear me?"
"Yeah."
She waited for more of an acknowledgment from him, for some kind of opinion one way or another. After what seemed like forever, she heard him swallow and his arm tightened around her. "TJ?"
"Yeah?"
His voice was intense. "You are my dream, not Berkeley. You're what I never thought I'd have, what I was afraid to ever dream about again after I lost Jessica. Don't ask me to put anything or anyone before you. Don't ask me to make a promise that I can't keep."
A lump formed in her throat. She was touched by his words, but there was something far greater at stake now. "Sam, the babies—we're all they have. If we don't protect them, who will?"
"If it comes to..." He trailed off and started over. "We can still have kids someday. We can adopt or maybe do in vitro."
She tensed, panic surging through her. "No! Don't you say that! You save them, Sam. You hear me? I'll never forgive you if you let them die."
"Shh, shh, shh," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Your blood pressure's going up again. Just rest. Let's talk about it later." He took her hand and started rubbing his thumb in circles across the back of it.
She wanted to make him swear to her that he'd always put the twins first, but what right did she have to ask him to promise anything, when she had so blatantly disregarded the one she made to him?
"Everything's gonna be okay," he said. "Just take it easy."
He was right. She needed to calm down, and the deep timber of his voice was comforting. It made her blood hum, made her feel cozy and toasty on the inside. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. They could talk about everything tomorrow when her head didn't ache so bad and she wasn't so tired.
They lay in silence for a long time after that, and TJ was almost asleep when she felt the babies kick. She took Sam's hand and placed it over the spot where she'd felt the movement. She wasn't sure he would be able to feel it, but she prayed that he would. She wanted him to feel what she felt, wanted him to feel that the babies were alive and real.
She waited, hardly daring to breathe. The babies were quiet, not cooperating, and she'd almost given up when there they were, the little tiny thumps she'd been hoping for—her proof of life. Sam inhaled sharply, and she knew that he felt it. A small laugh of amazement escaped him, and he kissed the top of her head.
It was a profound moment that didn't need any words. She smiled, and—pregnant, hormonal mess that she was—tears welled in her eyes. She closed her lids to keep the tears at bay. She was confident that Sam understood now, that he would feel the same as she did. The twins had to come first, no matter what.
Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he didn't really mean what he'd said about not going back to Berkeley. She would talk him into going back once he was over his anger and he saw there was nothing to be worried about—once she was feeling better.
TBC