A/N: I posted Chapter 9 yesterday, so if you haven't read it yet, read it first. :) I will begin posting again on Wednesday, August 1st, so don't forget me!

Thanks so much to skzb for her fabulous suggestions and to catsluver for helping me make the last scene of this chapter much more dramatic and medically correct. Any mistakes are mine, all mine.

Thanks also to those of you who reviewed as guests. I can't reply personally if you are a guest, but please know that I really, really appreciate you taking the time to drop me a line.

Chapter 10

Sam was at his boiling point, and he could feel scalding rage rising from someplace deep inside him.

Dean glanced at Ferna Sue and Vern and then back to Sam. "Dude, you wanna watch your mouth?"

"I said don't tell me what to do." Sam tried to keep his anger under control and shook with the effort, his jaw clenched tight and a death grip on his crutches.

"Here, now," said Vern. "What's goin' on between you two?"

"My brother is a liar," Sam answered, staring Dean down.

Dean reddened. "You know that's not true."

"Oh, really, Dean?" Sam was skeptical and let it show in his voice, filling it with acid. "Because I seem to recall asking you several times how TJ was doing, and you told me everything was fine."

Dean didn't say anything.

"But it wasn't, was it, Dean? Everything wasn't fine. You let me go about my business at Berkeley as if nothing was wrong, as if TJ was safely at home studying for her next exam."

Dean cast an uneasy glance at Fern and Vern. A nurse passed by, looking at them all with curiosity. "You really wanna do this right here, right now?" asked Dean.

"Why not?" Sam jeered. "Let's tell Fern and Vern how TJ was in the hospital for almost a week before I ever found out. We don't need to tell the nursing staff, though, do we? Oh, no." He let out a bitter laugh. "I mean, they all knew way before I did, right?"

Fern frowned and Vern looked wary.

Dean rubbed his fingers over his mouth in agitation.

"Hell," Sam went on cynically, "if the semester hadn't ended, I'd probably still be at Berkeley, still clueless that she was here, still sitting there on my ass like the chump that I was!"

Dean's voice was a low growl. "It wasn't like that, Sam. You know why I didn't tell you."

"No, I don't, Dean. I trusted you! You were the only reason I went back to Berkeley at all, because I thought you would tell me if she got worse, even if she wouldn't. I trusted you to tell me if she needed me, so why don't you fucking enlighten me on why you didn't?"

"Because she didn't want me to, Sam!" Dean shouted. "Because she was worried about you being in the middle of finals, and every time I said that I was gonna tell you, she got upset and her blood pressure went up. Because there was nothing you could do anyway and because I knew I could watch over her for you. She wanted you to finish the semester, and she knew you wouldn't if we told you. It's as simple as that!" Dean seemed to realize his voice had escalated and lowered it, but it was no less intense. "And because she was sick and scared, and I couldn't say no to her any more than you could."

Sam was breathing hard, fury coursing through his veins. "Don't you use her as an excuse," he hissed.

"Boys—" Fern began.

"I'm sorry, man," Dean said to Sam, inadvertently interrupting Fern. His tone was solemn and sincere.

"Not good enough."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and then focused intently on Sam. "So you're gonna forgive TJ but not me?"

Sam just stared at him.

"I'm not the only one who lied to you, Sammy."

Sam nearly choked on a wave of rage—rage at Dean for saying that TJ had lied, even if it was true, and rage that there was nothing Sam could do to help her. He shifted his weight to one arm and grabbed Dean's red Firestone shirt with his other hand, twisting it in a vise-like grip, forearm crutch hanging off his arm. His balance was precarious, but he didn't care.

Dean grabbed onto Sam's shirt with both hands in a defensive gesture, chin vibrating with heated emotion.

Fern gasped. "Lord a' mercy," she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Vern intervened. He was shorter than both Dean and Sam, but he was wiry and strong. He put a hand on each of their chests, trying to break them apart but not pushing hard enough to cause Sam to fall.

Sam ignored him.

"Come on, Sammy," said Dean through gritted teeth. "Don't do this."

"Son," Vern said to Sam, "I know you're worried about TJ, but this ain't gonna help her none. She already feels guilty enough about all this without you two at each other's throats."

That got through to Sam, and he tore his gaze from Dean to look at Vern.

Vern nodded. "That's right. She done told me and Ferna Sue about all of it. She feels bad that she's the cause of the rift between you two boys, that she talked Dean into doing something he didn't wanna do. Don't make her feel worse. But if you gotta have it out with each other, best to do it where she can't hear you." He eyed the nearby door to TJ's room pointedly. It was cracked open.

Sam hoped to God she hadn't heard him, that he hadn't upset her. He felt his anger start to subside, felt himself deflate. He let go of Dean's shirt and placed his hand back on the handgrip of his crutch. Dean let go too, raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

Vern's eyes were wise and piercing as he spoke to Sam. "But you know what? The best thing you could do for TJ would be to put this behind you. It'd sure take a burden off her shoulders that she don't need."

Ferna Sue, who was over a foot shorter than Sam, put an arm around his waist and gave him a hug. "You're here for her now, hon," she pointed out. "That's all that really matters."

Sam looked away, fighting a sudden burning in his throat, and swallowed. God, he was so worried about TJ. He contemplated what Dean said about not being able to say no to her, and he knew Dean was right. If the tables were turned, Sam wouldn't have been able to say no to her either. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He felt drained, his exhaustion making itself known in every cell of his body.

"You want me to get your chair so you can go eat?" Dean asked. It was an offer of peace and Dean's way of accepting Sam's apology.

Sam closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, thanks."

Dean was back in big-brother mode. "Then let Fern and Vern bring something back if you won't go with them."

Sam opened his eyes, squinting a bit. He was so tired it was hard to focus. When he saw the looks of concern aimed at him, he relented about the food and spoke to Fern. "Would you mind bringing me something?"

"Of course not, sugar. Any requests?"

He had no appetite and couldn't care less what they brought back. "No. Whatever you think looks good."

Fern gave him another hug and then left with Vern, walking down the hallway and disappearing around the corner where the elevators were.

"I'll be back later tonight after I take Rocket for a run," said Dean.

"You don't have to do that—spend all your free time up here."

"Yeah. I do." And with that, Dean was gone.

XXXXXXXX

Sam had no idea how long he stood in the hallway after everyone left. He was numb, not letting himself think on everything that had been said. He just wanted to get back to TJ, needed to be with her to keep his sanity.

Finally, the door opened and Ivy stepped out. "All right, Redwood. You can go back in. She wants you to take her out to the terrace." She was talking about the small rooftop garden that could be accessed from TJ's floor. "She's unhooked from everything."

"You think that's a good idea?"

Ivy pursed her lips. "I think you both need a break and some fresh air. Sometimes nature does more good than all the meds in the world. It's been a while since she felt the sun on her face, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Just don't stay out there too long, and let me know when you're back so I can hook up her IV again."

"Okay."

"I'll help you get her out of bed, and then I'm gonna call Dr. Williams while you two are outside. Dr. Williams will probably want to put TJ on oxygen," Ivy warned.

Sam knew that, but it still made his heart sink. He nodded.

Ivy patted his arm in sympathy and headed back into TJ's room, Sam following behind her.

TJ looked like she felt a little better when he came in. She wasn't quite as pale and seemed perkier. Maybe getting something in her stomach had helped a little bit after all.

"You didn't get anything to eat," she accused.

"Uh, not yet."

She looked dismayed.

"Your parents are bringing me something from the cafeteria when they come back.

"Good."

His wheelchair was sitting out of the way in a corner, and he crutched over to it. He knew the brakes were locked on it because he'd locked them earlier in order to stand up with his braces. He turned his back to his chair and then sort of plopped-fell into it. There was really no graceful way to do it, since the braces stayed locked and made it impossible to bend his knees. He put his crutches behind him, leaning them in the corner.

Once he was seated, he flipped the locking mechanism on the thigh part of his right brace, releasing it into free mode. He got his knee to bend and lifted his leg with his hands to where his foot was on the footplate. He tried to repeat the procedure for his left brace, but it wasn't cooperating and stayed locked. It sometimes happened.

"Need some help?" asked Ivy.

"Yeah. If you could just pick up my foot. Sometimes the brace thinks my weight's still on it."

TJ smirked. "It thinks?"

"It's a smart brace," he said, quirking his mouth.

Ivy picked up his foot and raised his leg. He noted absently that the tennis shoes that he wore with his braces were getting kind of scuffed and worn, but he had much bigger things to worry about. He tried flipping the lever to unlock his brace, and this time it released. "I think I got it," he said.

Ivy lowered his foot back to the floor, and he lifted his leg at the knee with his hand, placing his foot on the footplate. Then he pushed himself over to TJ's bed. "I heard you wanted a ride."

"Yeah. I'm gettin' cabin fever. Is it cold outside?"

He realized he had no idea. It had been several days since he'd been outside. It was the end of December, so it was possible it could be chilly.

"It's San Diego," said Ivy. "It's gorgeous out there, sunny and mid-sixties. I'll get your hoodie, though, just in case." She grabbed it out of a nearby wardrobe and helped TJ put it on.

Ferna Sue had bought TJ several sets of maternity pajamas and hoodies from the Gap for Christmas. Sam didn't mind TJ's hodgepodge mixture of his old T-shirts and her quirky pajama pants, but he had to admit, the way the new clothes that she was wearing today clung to her body and accentuated her belly and breasts was sexy. TJ joked that the boob fairy had come for a visit.

At first, he'd felt a little guilty being turned on by his pregnant wife who was so ill, but then he'd decided it was okay. After all, it wasn't like she was the Virgin Mary, and he couldn't help it. To him, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Part of that beauty was the strength and class with which she had endured everything. It made him love her all the more.

Ivy helped TJ slip on the suede, sheepskin-lined slippers Sam gave her for Christmas.

On Sam's behalf (because no way would he leave TJ to go Christmas shopping himself), Fern had gotten her a pair of expensive Ugg moccasin house shoes. Judging by TJ's exuberant reaction when she opened the gift, she considered them quite a luxury. She didn't have much chance to wear them, though, because she hardly ever left her bed.

Ivy helped begin the slow process of getting TJ out of bed, and Sam tried not to pay attention to how weak TJ was, tried not to worry that she couldn't even make it from the bed to where he was, less than a foot away, without help.

She sat on his lap facing forward because her belly made it too cumbersome to sit sideways and rested her head back on his shoulder, her cheek next to his. "Is this gonna work?"

"Yeah."

"You sure? I don't wanna cause you to tip over backwards or throw you off balance." She grabbed the loose denim of his jeans on each side for purchase.

It was true that she was putting a lot of weight on his upper body, but the backrest of his chair gave him enough support that he wasn't worried. "It's fine."

"Can you see where you're going?" she asked.

"Yeah." He breathed in the scent of her, part flower and mint, part hospital antiseptic, and relished the heat of her body against him. Having her so close was calming and relaxing to him, made him feel like he could protect her. "Are your feet on top of mine?"

"Yeah."

He looked at Ivy. "I guess we're ready."

She nodded. "All right. Have fun, kids. No staying out past curfew."

Sam wheeled himself and TJ to the large outdoor terrace, garnering curious looks along the way, and found a relatively secluded spot where they could talk in private. There were a few other patients and family members milling around or sitting on benches, but it wasn't too crowded.

They sat quietly for a minute, soaking in the sun. Ivy was right. It was a beautiful day. His arms were wrapped around TJ, his hands on top of hers over her belly.

"Maybe I should sit on a bench," she said. "What if I squish your legs?"

He kissed her cheek. "You won't."

"Lord, Sam. I probably weigh five hundred pounds."

"You don't."

She huffed. "I don't think you're a good judge, since you can't feel how much I weigh."

"It'll be okay."

She exhaled. "I should sit on a bench," she said again. "But I'm selfish. I kind of like where I am."

"I like where you are too. Besides, you probably couldn't get to a bench by yourself, anyway."

She snorted a wry laugh. "Thanks for the reminder."

He lifted one of her hands to his lips, kissing the back of it, and then studied it. Her fingers looked more like they were supposed to, long and graceful, less like sausages. He wished it wasn't the dialysis that was making the swelling go down and that her kidneys would start functioning properly again.

"So, Bobby called while you were out in the hall," she said.

"Huh. What did he have to say?"

"He said to tell you to stop being a chucklehead and forgive your brother."

"You heard us in the hallway?"

"It was kind of hard not to."

He rested his chin on her shoulder and shut his eyes.

"Did y'all hash it all out, or are you still mad at him?"

"Who, Bobby?" He was being deliberately obtuse.

"You know who I'm talkin' about," she chided.

He exhaled a long breath and opened his eyes. "No. I'm not mad at him."

She let out a subtle, relieved breath, and her body seemed to relax, like a burden had suddenly been lifted off her shoulders. He felt better too. Maybe it wasn't even really Dean he'd been mad at. Maybe he'd just needed a target for the maddening helplessness he felt because there was nothing he could do but watch TJ get worse.

She took his hand and kissed the knuckle of his thumb.

He tightened his arms around her. "I love you," he said into her ear.

"I love you, too." She turned her face toward him and kissed his cheek, then nuzzled her nose next to his skin. "Mmm," she drawled, "you always smell so good."

He smiled. "So do you."

They passed another few moments in silence, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces, the crisp breeze, and each other's company.

TJ was the first to break the silence. "You know, we never resumed our talk about Berkeley."

He immediately tensed.

"You're not goin' back, are you?"

He didn't answer at first. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to upset her. "We'll see," he said finally.

She huffed. "My mama used to say that when she meant no."

"It depends on how things go. There's still time to make a decision. I don't have to be back until January 11th."

"I don't think I'm gonna get any better." She sounded resigned.

He shrugged. "I can always withdraw and take a leave of absence. Don't worry about it, Teej. It'll work out."

"What about your job?"

"Parker suggested I start taking on work as a freelance paralegal. He's got plenty of work for me—drafting pleadings and letters, research, writing briefs, stuff like that—and he's got friends here in San Diego that he'll recommend me to. It's perfect, really. I can pretty much work from anywhere and take on as much or as little as I want. I just need access to a law library if I can't find what I need online."

"Sounds like you got it all worked out." She didn't sound too thrilled.

"We need the money," he said frankly.

"But you'll go back to school eventually, right?"

He couldn't make himself say yes. He was afraid to, afraid he would bring even worse luck on her and himself by tempting fate. It seemed he wasn't meant to ever finish law school, no matter how much he wanted to. "If it's possible, I will," he said cautiously.

She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to take what I can get."

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in, not wanting to talk about law school anymore.

"So, on New Year's Day, I'll be 23 weeks."

"Yeah."

"We need to talk about names."

He didn't want to. Names would make the twins more real, more human. "We don't know the sex of one of them," he said lamely.

"Oh, right." Her tone was sarcastic. "So is that a new rule, that you can't discuss names unless you know the gender of the baby?"

He didn't answer.

"Hmm, wonder what people did in the olden days before ultrasounds were invented?"

He still didn't say anything.

"We know one of them is a girl."

He kissed her neck. "We can name her after you."

"Hell, no!"

He chuckled. "What about after your mom?"

"Oh, Lord. My family's names are off limits."

"Why?"

"Look at what we have to choose from—Gertrude, Joyce, Ferna Sue. The list doesn't get any better." She unzipped her hoodie, letting more air get to her. Her temperature got out of whack a lot. Sometimes she got cold, but most of the time she was too warm.

"You hot?"

She shrugged as if to say, What else is new? "What about your mom's name—Mary?"

"I, uh, kind of always thought that's what Dean would name his daughter, if he ever had one."

She waited a moment before speaking. "She was your mother, too, Sam."

"Dean knew her, though. He has memories of her."

"What if he never has a daughter?"

He was silent.

"I doubt Dean would mind if we used Mary's name," she ventured.

"Maybe not," he replied, noncommittal. He didn't want to talk about this. It was strangely painful.

"Okay. Fine." She sounded miffed. "Let's talk about something else, then. If—if something happens, if I get to where I can't speak for myself—"

He put his finger over her lips to silence her. "You talk too much." He kissed her earlobe, trying to distract her.

She turned her head away and grabbed his wrist, pulling his finger away from her mouth. "We have to talk about it, Sam. We never got it resolved before, and I need to know where you stand. I need your word that you're on the babies' side."

He lifted his head up and looked at the blue sky, wondering how he was going to tell her how he felt without upsetting her.

"Sam?"

"I can't—I can't. I'm—I think you need to really think about this. There's so many—I mean, it's—it's..." He was really botching this up. He drew in a deep breath and started over. "It's already too dangerous for you, TJ—and I'm not talking about what could happen to your brain if you have a seizure or a stroke. That's scary enough, but let's talk about what's happening right now. Your kidneys are failing. We're talking about something that could end up being permanent if we don't deliver the babies soon. Do you want to be on dialysis the rest of your life or have to have a kidney transplant?"

"If that's what it takes."

He exhaled a frustrated breath through his nose, mouth tight. "What if something happens to you, TJ? What if you die? If you're not here for them, what's the point? I grew up without a mother and it sucked. Do you want that for them? Because I sure as hell don't."

She stiffened, tone angry and incredulous. "So you'd rather them be dead?"

"There are other options, TJ. This isn't our only chance to have kids, but there's only one you."

Her body radiated furious heat against him. "Fuck you then, Sam. I'm not going through all this for the fun of it. I love them. Do you hear me? They are our flesh and blood, our children, and they are not replaceable!"

He could feel the unnatural vibration of her lungs, could hear the burbling sound of the fluid there. So much for not upsetting her. His gut twisted in fear, knowing her blood pressure was probably rising too. "I'm sorry, Teej. I shouldn't have said it like that."

"I know I don't have a right to ask after breaking my promise to you," her voice was shaky, "but, please, Sam, promise me you won't let our babies be delivered until it's safe, until they have a fighting chance."

"Shh. It's okay."

"No, it's not! I need to know." She was trembling.

"Shh. Getting worked up won't help you or them."

"I need to know. Please. Just one more week. Promise me you won't let anything happen until 24 weeks. Please," she begged.

His heart ached for her, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't make that promise. He couldn't choose the babies over her if it came to that. He just couldn't.

"Please, Sam." She drew in a labored breath. "You have to promise me. Just one more week." She made a noise that was half cough, half sob.

The sound of it tore into him. Jesus Christ, how was he supposed to deny her? He was scared to death that she was about to have a seizure or a stroke, and his heart was pounding. He needed to calm her down. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and even, despite his fear. "Okay, okay. I promise, TJ. I promise."

She didn't respond.

"Do you hear me? I promise."

She nodded and heaved in another breath, tears rolling down her face.

She was too out of breath to speak, and that scared him even more. "Easy, Teej." He spoke softly. "It's okay. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

She drew in another hitched breath.

"Just breathe with me. Okay?" In a steady rhythm, he breathed near her ear so she could hear him and feel his exhales on her skin. At the same time, he rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

He felt her begin to calm. Her breathing slowed down and she seemed less panicked. After a moment, she sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"I'm taking you back, now. Okay?"

"'Kay."

He was relieved she could speak, although her breathing still wasn't quite right.

She laid her head all the way back onto his shoulder, her throat arched toward the sun.

He began to push his chair toward the entrance to the hospital, feeling a knot in his gut, and hoped he wasn't going to regret making that promise.

XXXXXXXX

On New Year's Day, a couple of days later, nothing had really changed, except for Sam's sleeping arrangement. TJ had been moved to a different floor, to one of the VIP suites in the hospital, paid for by an anonymous benefactor.

The benefactor wasn't that great of a mystery because TJ was moved later the same day that Sam had the argument with Dean. Sam and TJ figured Dean must have told Heather about it and about how exhausted Sam was. Heather's parents were rich and were the most likely candidates, although Sam supposed it could have been Dr. Rostom. However, the doctor wasn't privy to the fact that TJ's hospital roommate had displaced Sam out of a bed and was, at the same time, driving him crazy with the Home and Garden Network.

Each VIP suite was almost like an apartment, except there was no kitchen. There was a living area complete with a sofa that made into a bed where Sam slept. It was a little lumpy but a vast improvement from the sleep chair. At least he was able to stretch out and sleep on his stomach, even if his feet hung off the end of the bed. It was okay. It wasn't like he could feel it. Putting a pillow under his legs helped, and he wore socks to keep his feet warm in case he inadvertently pulled the covers off his feet when he slept.

TJ's part of the room was the "bedroom," where she lay in a regular hospital bed surrounded by all her monitors and IV bags. There was a TV in both rooms, so she could watch what she wanted and Sam could, too. The bedroom and living area could be partitioned off with a hard, accordion-like plastic curtain if TJ needed privacy.

She was on oxygen now via a nasal cannula that fit in her nose along with the thin feeding tube she still had sticking out of it. Vern had teased that all she needed was a nose ring to complete the ensemble. She was still in good spirits for the most part, hiding any discomfort she felt, but Sam wasn't fooled. She was getting weaker and sleeping more.

She was almost six months pregnant. This was the time in her pregnancy she was supposed to be energetic. She was supposed to be nesting, getting a nursery ready, and buying baby clothes—not wasting away in a hospital.

The babies were fine, still getting stronger with each passing day. Dr. Williams continued to marvel that no complications had developed with the placentas, that no matter what went with wrong with TJ, the babies seemed to be unscathed.

But Sam wasn't surprised.

He could hardly stand to sit through the ultrasounds or listen to the twins' heartbeats. He hated how everyone oohed and awed over them, how everyone acted like it was okay that they were draining the life from TJ. Demon blood or not, they were killing her. And, God help him, he had promised her that he would let them—at least for another week.

Just one more week. It was his mantra. He'd already talked it over with Dr. Williams. She concurred that they should deliver at 24 weeks, that TJ's condition was too unpredictable, that she could have a severe seizure or stroke or her kidneys could be permanently damaged if they waited any longer.

He wasn't sure TJ would go for it. If her condition stayed the same, she would say they should wait a little longer, that each week the babies were in her womb was one more week where they could continue to develop, one more week where the risk of complications from premature birth would diminish. He didn't care. One more week. That was all he was giving them, and he'd find a way to talk her into delivering before it was too late for her.

It was evening. Fern and Vern had just left, but Heather and Dean lingered. Sam wished they would leave. TJ was tired and needed to rest, but she would never admit that—and she would be irritated if Sam said it.

Heather, who hadn't been to visit for a couple of days because of her work, was sitting next to TJ's bed, while Sam sat on the sofa watching college football on the TV with Dean.

Heather never suggested she and TJ look at baby clothes and furniture online anymore. The future was too uncertain. Instead, they talked about everything under the sun except for anything to do with the babies. Even TJ avoided talking about them, at least when Sam was around, but whether that was due to a fear that the twins wouldn't make it or that she knew Sam didn't want to hear about them, he couldn't tell.

He knew he was being a dick, that it hurt her that he didn't want to talk about the babies, that he didn't feel the same as she did. He'd tried to act excited about them, but he'd somehow lost his ability to be a good con man. Once he got TJ through this pregnancy and if the twins survived, then he would try harder to love them. It wasn't that he didn't want them. He'd been in awe of them that first ultrasound he saw them, had even felt protective of them, but that was before TJ's health deteriorated each day before his eyes. She was putting the babies first, but someone had to put her first.

He was lost in thought and wasn't paying attention to TJ and Heather's conversation, but then he heard TJ say something about the suite.

"It was your parents, wasn't it?" TJ asked. She had a look on her face that said she already knew the answer.

Heather sat there for a second, then lifted her shoulders and gave a crooked, enigmatic smile. "Maybe."

Sam looked at Dean and kept his voice low. "Did you know?"

Dean shook his head. "I mean, I suspected, but she never said anything."

"Lord, Heather," said TJ. "It's too much. Your parents don't even know us."

Heather waved away TJ's words. "That doesn't matter. They love throwing their money at people they don't know. My mom has about ten different charities she's involved with that they give money to."

Sam stiffened. He didn't like being a charity case.

Heather seemed to realize that and backpedaled. "I mean—I don't mean you guys are a charity case. My parents did it as a favor to me. They're trying to..." she made air quotes with her fingers, "...repair our relationship, which means they've pissed off my brother and he won't have anything to do with them. Now they're thinking a paramedic daughter isn't such a bad thing after all. I figured why not take advantage of it?"

Sam felt uneasy. "You didn't have to do that, Heather."

She smiled wryly. "Yeah, I did." She started humming the theme song to House Hunters.

TJ and Dean laughed and Sam managed a grin. "We'll pay them back," he said.

"They don't expect you to."

"Doesn't matter. We'll pay them back."

Heather shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you can take a long time to do it."

"Thanks, Heather," said TJ.

Heather seemed uncomfortable with the gratitude. "It's not a big deal. Really."

"Yeah, it is," said Sam. "There's a whiny pregnant lady down on the fourth floor that's alive tonight because of you."

Heather grinned and turned to TJ. The grin fell from her face.

Sam looked at TJ, saw what Heather saw, that TJ didn't look right. His heart stopped.

Heather jumped up and grabbed TJ's hand, leaning close to her. "TJ? TJ, can you hear me?"

TJ didn't answer. Her eyes looked strange—glassy and protruding—and her face was distorted into a grimace.

Sam's heart started to hammer with a vengeance. "What's wrong with her, Heather?" But he already knew. He swiftly transferred from the sofa into his chair and pushed himself to the other side of TJ's bed, Dean following behind him.

Heather ignored Sam as if she hadn't heard his question, her brow creased in concentration. She glanced quickly at her watch and then pushed the call button on the bed panel.

"Yes? Can I help you?" said a tinny voice.

"TJ's having a seizure." Heather spoke calmly, but there was repressed urgency in her tone.

"We'll be right there," replied the nurse instantly.

Heather lowered TJ's bed so that it was flat and positioned TJ's head so that her neck was arched upward.

Sam watched in frozen terror as his worst nightmare unfolded before his eyes.

TJ's face started twitching and her body grew rigid. Her pregnant belly seemed grotesquely huge to Sam, a hideous protrusion from her stiff, contorted body. She went into convulsions then, alternating between violent contractions of every muscle in her body and then suddenly relaxing, over and over, in a rapid, jerky sequence. Foam started coming from her mouth and Heather gently wiped it away with a Kleenex from a box on the bedside table.

A doctor and a nurse pushing a crash cart came running into the room. The nurse was speaking in a hurried manner, giving the doctor a quick history on TJ. She looked familiar but Sam couldn't remember her name and suddenly wished that Ivy was there. Ivy was competent and familiar, and he trusted her.

The nurse, a stout girl with dirty-blond hair in a ponytail, looked at Heather as if she recognized her. "You're a paramedic."

Heather gave a small nod of acknowledgment, then looked toward TJ. "She's been seizing for about thirty seconds," she said with intensity.

TJ's lips were blue and she was making choking sounds, and all Sam could do was watch in helpless horror. He'd heard that people sometimes bit or swallowed their own tongues during a seizure, and the thought caused his stomach to lurch sickeningly. His throat constricted and he felt like he was choking right along with her.

The doctor took one look at TJ and swore under his breath. "Let's get her bagged!" he barked at the nurse.

From the crash cart, the nurse grabbed what looked like an oxygen mask with a blue football-shaped bag attached to it and quickly removed the nasal cannula from TJ's nose. Then she placed the mask over TJ's nose and mouth and began squeezing the bag periodically, forcing air into TJ's lungs.

Dean scrubbed a shaking hand over his face, clearly upset. Sam's focus narrowed to TJ, and he could barely hear what the doctor and nurse said to one another because of the blood roaring in his ears. His whole world was collapsing.

Another woman in scrubs rushed into the room. The nurse gave her a quick rundown of what was going on, and the newcomer took over the job of pushing air into TJ's lungs. It vaguely registered with Sam that the woman was Julia, the respiratory therapist that had been in to check on TJ a few times.

The doctor, a young guy with wire-rimmed glasses and pudgy fingers, spoke to the nurse as he studied TJ's monitors. "Did Williams leave a PRN for magnesium sulfate?"

She nodded. "I grabbed it on the way. I've got it here, ready to go."

"All right. Let's get that going. What about hydralazine?"

Again, a nod. "Got it."

"All right. Let's see if we can get her blood pressure to come down."

The nurse quickly prepared the syringes of medication and injected them into TJ's IV port. The doctor grabbed TJ's flailing arm and tried to keep it still. "We need to keep her PICC line secure, keep her from jarring it loose." He looked at Heather. "How long?"

"Seventy-five seconds," she answered.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed to Sam when the medications finally started to kick in and the seizure began to wane. TJ's body stopped jerking and flailing and she appeared to be unconscious.

"She's breathing again on her own," Julia said to the doctor, but she didn't remove the mask from TJ's face. She continued to give gentle squeezes of the bag each time TJ inhaled, watching the monitors.

The doctor also watched the monitors, and, after a moment, he looked relieved. "Looks like everything is starting to even out. Pulse ox looks better and her pressure is coming down." He looked at the nurse. "Vicky, can you hook her up to the fetal monitor?"

The nurse—Vicky, apparently—quickly grabbed the fetal monitoring belt that was always near TJ's bed, lifted up TJ's shirt, and ran the belt under TJ's back and over the bare mound of her belly, attaching the sensors to her skin. At the same time, Julia placed a regular oxygen mask on TJ's face.

The doctor looked at Dean and Heather. "Are you family? I'm Dr. Snow, by the way."

Sam was in a strange state, somewhere between shock and hysteria, and he almost laughed at the doctor's name. It was appropriate, since Dr. Snow had a thatch of spiky, snow-white blond hair on the top of his head.

"I'm her brother-in-law," Dean answered. He nodded toward Sam. "He's her husband."

Sam felt a stab of self-loathing and clenched his eyes shut, feeling sick to his stomach. Her husband. Her useless fucking husband who had just sat and watched her convulsing and not breathing.

Dr. Snow offered his hand to Sam. "Derek Snow."

Sam looked up at the doctor and shook his hand. "Sam," he managed.

"I'm sure you can guess, Sam, what just happened, since your wife has been on bed rest because of preeclampsia for several weeks."

Sam nodded.

"The eclamptic seizure is over now, but she'll probably be comatose for a while."

Sam felt like his mouth was full of cotton and nodded, unable to speak. He knew that coma was something that could happen with eclampsia. He'd done all the reading.

Dr. Snow looked sympathetic. "I know it sounds scary, but coma or unconsciousness often happens after an eclamptic seizure. We're not talking irreversible here. It's temporary, and when we say 'coma,' it doesn't necessarily mean a state of complete unconsciousness. The duration is usually anywhere from one to five days—sometimes more, sometimes less. As I indicated, she may regain some level of consciousness but won't really know what's going on. She may have bouts where she's agitated or combative."

Sam's eyes settled on TJ. She looked peaceful now, as if nothing had happened and she was just asleep.

"I'm sorry. I understand she's still in her second trimester, not yet 24 weeks," said Dr. Snow.

Sam suddenly felt weak. "Yeah."

Dr. Snow's expression was grave. "I'm going to page Dr. Williams. I'm afraid there are some things you need to discuss with her, some decisions to make."

Sam swallowed hard. Yes. There would be decisions to make—and a promise to keep or break.

TBC

A/N: Don't forget. I'll post Chapter 11 on Wednesday, August 1st, so please tune in. Next chap will be a doozy and has my version of Soulless Sam, so I hope it will be worth the wait!