A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!

WARNING: If you are pregnant, particularly if you're in your last trimester, do NOT read this chapter until after you have your nice, normal, safe delivery. Trust me on this.

Chapter 53: Tobias – Complicated

(Tris is 30, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Emily is 3 1/2)

"Have you been watching your sugar intake?" Dr. Martinez asks, her expression somewhat sour.

"Yes," Tris answers immediately, and I confirm it more roughly than is probably necessary. I can't quite help it – the doctor looks like she doesn't believe us.

"Well, I don't know how to account for the baby's growth, then." She returns to looking at the ultrasound. "But there's no question that he's big. A lot bigger than Abigail was at this point."

It's certainly not surprising, given how much larger Tris' abdomen has been this time around. She's been doing everything right – watching what she eats and exercising regularly – but she just keeps growing, and so does our son. It's obvious by this point that she's miserably uncomfortable, and there's still a month to go.

"We'll need to keep a close eye on his measurements," Dr. Martinez finally says with a sigh. "It's too soon to say for certain, but if he keeps going at this rate, we're looking at either needing to deliver him early, or surgically. But it depends on his head circumference and his shoulder width, so we'll watch those two for now."

"And in the meantime," she adds, her voice reprimanding, "you need to stick to the diet. Gestational diabetes is no joke."

"I have been," Tris snarls. But it's still obvious that the doctor doesn't believe us, and we're all disgruntled as we part ways until the next appointment.

"All I'm saying is that I would have been thrilled to have a c-section," Christina tells Tris with a shrug. "No labor pains, and no pushing. You just get your baby handed to you." She gives me a significant look before adding, "It would almost be like being a dad."

I roll my eyes, but Tris frowns at her best friend. "Except that the recovery time is longer, and the delivery is riskier, and I'll be left with scars. I'd rather just do it the way I did with Abigail."

Christina gives her a somewhat more sympathetic pat on the arm. "Yeah, that's not really a choice this time, is it? So, you might as well enjoy the good side of it."

Realistically, she's right. With two weeks to go, Eli has officially grown over the threshold for a vaginal birth, even if they induced today. So, we're scheduled for surgery on his due date, with the provision of having it sooner if labor begins. It's not what we wanted to hear.

Tris gives a long sigh. "Well, at least this way there's an end in sight. It was starting to seem like I'd be pregnant forever."

"I can definitely relate to that," Christina agrees, and I know it's time for me to give them some privacy. I can put up with a lot, but I'd really rather not listen to my wife and her best friend discuss all of the aches and pains and rashes and nausea and various other symptoms of their pregnancies. There are some things it's better not to know.

Eli shows no sign of budging on his own, so we make our way to the hospital at the scheduled time so they can make him emerge.

"Well, I'd call him a stubborn little kid," Dr. Martinez comments as she does the final pre-surgery ultrasound, "but he's clearly not so little." Switching off the machine, she turns to us. "So, here's how it's going to work."

She sits on the small, rolling chair in the examination room as she faces Tris. "We're going to use a spinal anesthesia – basically, an epidural – so you'll be awake during the procedure. That will allow you to see your baby right away, even if you can't hold him until after we're done."

She shifts her focus to me. "Tobias, you'll scrub in and wear surgical garb, so you can be in the room with us the whole time."

I nod, not sure if I'm relieved or stressed at the idea of watching the surgery. I definitely want to be there for my wife and son, but I can't say I've ever had a burning desire to see an operation. Particularly not one done on Tris. In Erudite.

My hesitation grows stronger the more Dr. Martinez describes the procedure. She delves into considerably more detail than I'd prefer, though apparently not enough for Tris, who asks a number of questions. At times like this, it's easy to see her aptitude for this faction.

By the time the nurse takes us to the prep room, my hands are starting to shake from sheer, raw nerves. But I force the reaction down so I can clean Tris' skin with the sterile wipes and help her into the hospital gown. She's clearly struggling with anxiety about all of this, too, and I refuse to add to that.

"Okay," the nurse says as she pops her head back in. "Are we all set here?" Her tone is too cheery, and I almost mutter something unfriendly under my breath, but instead we both just nod.

"Very well, then. Tobias, I need you to come with me, so you can change and wash up, and then you'll join Tris in the operating room." She gives a gentle smile. "Tris, your prep is a little different, so you can just wait here for a few more minutes, and then Mary will be in to help you."

My heart is pounding so hard that it's difficult to hear over it, and I stumble as I give Tris a quick kiss and then follow the nurse. She takes me down one of the hallways that I remember walking the day Abigail was born, and I find myself staring at another couple as they make their way slowly along it just like we did that day.

I finally remember the nurse's name – Diane – just as she leads me into a small room with no furniture. A metal shelf on the wall holds a pile of clothing, and she gestures towards it.

"Change into those scrubs," she instructs me, "and throw your current clothing into the chute on that side of the room. Then, go through the door on the far side and scrub your hands and arms and face thoroughly. There are instructions by the sink. Make sure you follow them to the letter. We don't want Tris to develop an infection because you carry germs into the operating room."

It's a frightening warning, and I nod numbly before making my way into the tight space. This isn't a good time for claustrophobia, but it's all I can do to keep it at bay as I change quickly, glad to move into the next room.

It takes a good ten minutes to wash thoroughly enough to feel safe, and I still have to swallow my fear before I'm able to walk through the next door. It leads into the operating room. At least that one is a bigger space, but Tris isn't here yet, and I find myself standing by the wall, uncertain what to do while I wait for her. It's a long, timeless stretch.

A small leap of relief goes through me when she's finally wheeled in on a hospital gurney. Making my way quickly to her side, I grasp the hand that she stretches toward me. We both grip tightly.

The staff are working in carefully orchestrated movements, getting Tris into position and setting up equipment that beeps and buzzes at various rates, along with a cloth barrier to keep us from seeing the surgery. One glance tells me that it will work considerably better from where Tris is than for me. With my height, I can see over it all too easily, so I hunch down a bit, staying close to my wife's face.

"How are you feeling?" a man asks as he settles on the other side of her head. "Are you getting numb?" It takes me a second to realize that he's the anesthesiologist.

"It's hard to tell, to be honest." Tris' voice is jumping with nerves.

"Okay," he answers. "Then, tell me if you feel this, okay?" He moves to the other side of the curtain, and I try not to think about what he's seeing or touching.

"There," Tris says abruptly. "I felt that."

He doesn't seem fussed as he sits back down. "That's fine, Tris. You're numb through the areas we need, but we'll give you a few more minutes just to be safe."

She swallows, looking around fretfully, and I begin rubbing my thumb in gentle circles on the back of her hand. "Just think," I murmur, "we'll be meeting Eli soon." She nods, but it's hard to say if she actually heard me.

"What if something goes wrong?" she finally whispers, so softly I almost don't catch the words.

"It won't." There's a good portion of me that isn't confident about that, but I say it firmly anyway. She needs me to be strong, and to help her be strong, too.

"I'll be right here with you," I continue, using my free hand to caress her face lightly. "And you'll be awake the whole time, and we'll greet Eli together. Okay?"

She doesn't have a chance to respond before Dr. Martinez walks over to where we can see her. "We're ready to get started, Tris. Remember that you might feel some pressure at different points, particularly when we deliver the baby, but you shouldn't feel any pain. If you do, you need to tell Jonathan immediately, and he'll adjust your dosage."

She waits for Tris to agree before she disappears behind the screen again. And for a few seconds, my wife and I stare at each other, both trying to breathe. It doesn't help when some type of strange whirring sound begins, followed by periodic suction noises. It reminds me of being in a dentist's office, but I don't want to think about what it's sucking up in this case.

"Tobias, I'm scared." Tris' voice is barely audible, but it's enough to yank my heart right through my chest.

I lean down, making sure that she can't see anything other than me, and I hold her gaze fixedly. "I know," I tell her plainly. "But you're strong, and you're healthy, and you're going to get through this just fine." My thumb continues to rub circles on her hand. "And then we'll get to take Eli home, and you won't be the only one who has to carry him around anymore."

She manages a small laugh at that, and I lean down further, kissing her softly on the lips.

"I love you, Tobias," she murmurs against me, and I don't hesitate to respond.

"I love you, too, Tris."

It's difficult to say how long the procedure takes. My attention is too focused on my wife to watch the clock at all. But time seems to creep by, measured by bursts of suction, and people moving around, and medical dialogue that I don't really want to understand.

Once in a while, I'm tempted to lift my head enough to see over the barrier, but I stop myself each time. I love every inch of my wife, but I don't particularly want to see what's under her skin. So, instead I watch her face, holding her gaze and murmuring anything and everything soothing that finds its way through my addled brain.

I'm at the point where I don't think I can take this any longer when the air is pierced by the sound of a crying infant. Tris' eyes catch mine, and we both grin in sudden excitement as we turn toward the sound.

A nurse I don't recognize is carrying a baby toward the side of the room, and we both watch her, eager for our first glimpse of our son.

"Go get him," Tris says with a deep mixture of relief and joy. "And bring him over here." It's something I'm more than happy to do, and I instantly hop to my feet, crossing the room in two strides.

I'm greeted by the sight of Eli squirming on a baby scale as he continues his screams of protest.

"He certainly is a big one," the nurse tells me with a chuckle. "But very healthy. Would you like to hold him?"

My hands are reaching for him automatically when something draws my attention behind me. Some noise or sixth sense – I don't know exactly what. I just know that I feel an abrupt need to check on Tris, and I turn toward her, my gaze seeking her out.

She's lying still, her eyes rolled up into her head, while the doctor and assistants move rapidly around her. As I stare, frozen in shock and fear, their voices grow louder, conveying an urgency that's almost equal to the long, flat tone of the machine that was measuring her heart rate.

Time becomes a blur of activity and shouting and unanswered questions. I don't come back to reality until the nurse who's been taking care of Eli stands in front of me, shoving her hands against my chest.

"You're putting Tris in more danger," she snaps at me, her tone impossible to ignore. "You need to get out of here and let them work!"

And so I do, stumbling my way out of the room and sagging against the wall of the corridor as my entire chest constricts with the fiercest panic I've felt in fourteen years.

What the hell just happened?

A/N: I'm sorry about the cliffhanger. Please don't freak out. This story ends a little before the Epilogue of "Determinant," so really, you already know what happens. :-)

And for the record, I am definitely not against C-sections. I had an emergency one with my daughter, when she went into distress, and it probably saved her life. I should have had one with my son, too, since he was about Eli's size, but we didn't know that at the time, so he was instead a very complicated VBAC with a LONG recovery time.

Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I have the rest of the story drafted out at this point, so it shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is posted (and yes, the story is definitely 57 chapters). Thanks!