For the first time since experiencing this reality, Ian did not awake to the warmth of his and Rose's bedroom. No, that morning he awoke to the sterile and unwelcoming environment of a hospital room. He blinked slowly, allowing his tired eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescents that flooded the room. As his surroundings came into focus, Ian realized that his head was pillowed on Rose's bed, his hand still clutching hers as if it was his lifeline. Feeling a twinge of pain in his neck, Ian lifted his head off the bed and stretched his strained muscles. As he did so, he felt soft fingers tighten around his own. Immediately, he turned to look at Rose, his eyes locking with hers.

"Hey," she said softly, giving him a tired smile.

Ian let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, and rubbed his face with his free hand, wrapping it around his neck. "You're awake," he said, his relief evident.

Rose's smile gained strength. "So are you."

His lips quirked into a small smile. "Yes, well, I'm not the one currently connected to monitors and lying in a hospital bed."

On mention of the hospital, Rose grimaced and shifted in bed. "Yeah, I noticed that. What happened? The last thing I remember is we—"

As her memory of the previous night came to her, she trailed off and Ian turned his eyes away from her. His remembrance of the unspoken events pained him. Not so much his words, he'd meant them. But Rose's words and expressions still reverberated within his core, an ability that she had clearly mastered. And the more he observed her lying there in that unnatural environment, the more Ian became convinced that he bared the responsibility for putting her there.

Rose tightened her grip on his hand and gently stroked his skin. She knew that look, knew the war raging within his mind. It was so reminiscent of the past, of the beginning of their relationship.

"Hey," she said, squeezing his hand to garner his attention. Ian didn't respond, instead keeping his gaze on anywhere but her.

"Ian…Look at me," she gently commanded, tugging slightly on his hand.

This time he obeyed, and turned his gaze to her. His eyes held a familiar guard, but Rose could see what he was attempting to hide.

Rose looked at him squarely, yet her eyes were anything but harsh. "I know what you're thinkin' and this is not your fault."

Ian sniffed and quickly diverted his eyes.

"No, look at me," she said, this time slightly firmer. He hesitantly met her gaze again, and felt the air within him become motionless. Rose's eyes were brimming with emotion; an emotion that he couldn't be sure, but would swear resembled…love? Could that really be what he was seeing?

Before he could ponder further, Rose continued. "I know that look. Seen it too many times to forget it. But more importantly, I know you. And for some reason, ya seem to think you're to blame. But you did not put me here," she stroked her swollen stomach, "didn't put us here, and I won't have ya thinkin' differently."

Ian could do nothing but wordlessly stare at her. This woman baffled him. How could one person know another that deeply? To know what they were feeling without words transpiring? More to the point, why would she want that with him? Ian knew that he, of all people, didn't deserve such a thing…not after what he'd done. However, the longer Rose continued to hold his gaze with her soulful, loving brown eyes, the more it became increasingly difficult to not want it; to not want h—

"And this is why I harped on you to take things seriously!"

A woman's sudden appearance stopped Ian before he could finish his thought. The fact that he had been unable to complete it caused a warring within him between relief and disappointment. However as the woman's words settled on him, Ian immediately stopped his personal musings and focused on the implications of what had been said. His gaze flew from the woman to Rose, his eyes narrowing as they reached her.

"And just what does that mean?"

His tone, though not unkind, demanded an explanation. Rose shifted under his intensity, and this time it was her turn to divert her eyes.

His lips parted to speak, but the woman's voice halted this as she turned and addressed him.

"You still don't know?" she asked quietly, more of a statement than a question, before turning her focus back to Rose. She released a frustrated sigh as she furrowed her brow and began rubbing her forehead. "Bloody bullheaded," she mumbled under her breath.

Rose turned her head back towards the woman, her voice quiet as she began. "Martha—"

Martha shook her head briefly. Though her expression remained serious, her eyes showed warmth and concern. "Rose, I'm not looking for a fight. I'm just a lil' worked up. I get my list of admits this morning and yours is the first name on it."

On seeing Rose's eyes become glassy, Martha walked over to her and took her free hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "But I'm here now, and everythin's gonna be all right. We'll get you straightened out, yeah?"

Rose nodded silently, yet offered a small smile in acceptance and appreciation.

Martha turned her focus from Rose to Ian. Motioning to the door with her head, Martha said, "Ian, a word?"

Ian nodded, pushing his chair back as he stood. His hand was still intertwined with Rose's, something he was reluctant to break. Yet Ian knew that he needed to listen to whatever Martha had to say, that he was unaware of something that was of vital importance. He would just have to endure the momentary absence of her touch. With a small, soft smile, Ian released Rose's hand and followed Martha into the hallway. Martha moved a few steps down the hall so they wouldn't be talking directly outside the room.

She turned to face him, but Ian was the first to speak. "What's going on with Rose that I don't know about?"

Crossing her arms in front of her, Martha sighed and said, "About two weeks ago, Rose came in for her exam. I noticed some…irregularities in her lab work. Abnormal levels of protein in her urine. Her vitals were above normal—"

"To the point, if you don't mind," Ian said snappily. Concern and confusion about Rose's wellbeing weren't allowing any room for politeness.

Martha cocked an eyebrow at the tone he took. However, instead of harshly reprimanding him for his attitude, she chose to ignore it, knowing that Rose's condition was the reason for it.

"She has preeclampsia."

"Yes, I know that," Ian said shortly, agitatedly running a hand through his hair. "That's what the doctor downstairs said. But what does that mean?"

"It means that we have to watch her and the baby like a hawk. More than likely she'll make it to term without any more complications and deliver normally. But…," her tone became more serious, "But if we don't keep close watch, there's a chance somethin' could happen."

"What do you mean 'something'?" Ian's eyes bored into Martha, raging with emotions so numerous that she would never be able to identify all of them. He knew the answer; Martha was certain of it. Ian was a highly intelligent man. She merely stared at him, not wanting to acknowledge the answer herself.

His eyes widened and he turned from her, fiercely scrubbing his face. As he turned back towards her, Martha could readily identify the fear and panic in his eyes.

"Ya need to get yourself together," she admonished firmly yet kindly, attempting to rein him in before he escalated beyond reasoning.

"You tell me that Rose could die and ya want me to act like that's okay. Friend of the year, you are," he scoffed bitterly, his eyes beginning to darken with anger.

Martha took a few steps forward. "Listen here," she pointed at him, "I understand you're lashing out because you're scared. But don't you ever question my concern for Rose! I've known her a lot longer than you have, and I would never act so cavalier about her or the baby."

Sniffing, Ian turned his gaze to the side.

"The reason I said you have to get it together is because Rose can't afford to have you in a panic. She needs to keep calm. I don't know what all happened last night, but when I talked to Karen, she said—"

"Who's Karen?" Ian demanded.

"She's the doctor who admitted Rose. Either way, she told me that Rose was unconscious and her pressure was 186/102. Fortunately, her labs weren't too bad, so all they really had to do was give her some IV antihypertensives. But the more stressed and anxious Rose gets, the more she risks having another episode like she did. So like I said, you need to keep it together. For Rose's sake."

As Martha said those final two words, Ian looked at her once more. He was being called to on to care for Rose, to be a source of strength for her. He wasn't sure how to respond to that, neither verbally nor internally. There was so much within him struggling for control, and Ian had no idea how to maneuver through the chaos. However, there was one thing of which he was certain—nothing else could happen to Rose. The very idea of it pierced his heart. She was too important, too special to….others, to allow anything to happen to her.

Acknowledging Martha with a nod, Ian sidestepped her and rejoined Rose. As he entered the room, Rose's eyes immediately sought his, seeking their comfort and reassurance. Despite the torrent of fear and insecurity that Martha's words had caused him, all of that seemed to fade into the background the moment their eyes met. Seeing her, merely being in the vicinity of her, caused a sense of contentment to settle over Ian. His natural inclination was to fight it; but then she smiled at him, and all pretense of resistance failed. Ian returned her smile and took his seat beside her again. He had no sooner sat down, when Rose's eyes became troubled and she took a hard swallow, attempting to control her emotions.

"'M sorry," she whispered, guiltily averting her eyes. "I shoulda told you."

"Why didn't you?" he questioned, though refrained from sounding harsh or accusatory.

Exhaling shakily, she turned her head towards him, but still wouldn't meet his eyes. "It didn't seem like that big 'a deal. I… I felt fine for the most part. Sorta tired, but that's nothin' new. And I didn't…"

Ian furrowed his brow as she trailed off. "Didn't what?" he prodded.

Finally gaining her courage, Rose lifted her eyes just enough to see him. "I didn't want to make things worse for you. You were already so stressed with work and then when you ran out…. I just didn't want ya to worry 'bout me, 'specially since I didn't think it was anythin' to get worked up over."

"Yeah, I think it's safe to say it's something to worry about," Ian said decidedly, his guilt returning full force. To spare his feelings, Rose had remained silent. Because of his behavior, she had put herself at risk.

Rose frantically groped for his hand, locking her fingers with his when she found it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please don't be upset with me. I know it's my fault…that I shoulda said somethin' to ya sooner. It was stupid…just please..." Unable to continue, Rose's voice broke, and her silent tears gained strength.

Ian rubbed the back of his neck vigorously while shaking his head. "This isn't your fault, Rose. Yeah, you shoulda said something, but because of me, you—"

"No," she clipped. "I already told you to not go blamin' yourself. It's not your fault. So just stop with that."

"So neither of us is allowed to take the blame?" he said irritably.

"Well, you're not," Rose said decidedly.

"Neither are you!" Ian retorted.

"Well there ya have it," she said with finality.

Ian blinked at her several times. "Did we just argue about who was taking blame?"

A slow grin broke across her face. "Kinda."

Before they could continue, Martha returned and examined Rose, before promptly leaving to order various labs and procedures. Soon thereafter, the nurse came in to check on her, followed by the phlebotomist, who quickly collected several vials of blood.

"I look like a pin cushion with all these needle marks," Rose grumbled as she pulled off the cotton and tape from her arms.

"I don't understand why it took her so long to find a vein."

Rose cocked an eyebrow at him, grinning as she did so.

"What?" Ian asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion at her expression.

"I'm pretty sure it's 'cause she was scared of ya."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," he sniffed.

"Oh c'mon," Rose laughed. "You pelted her with questions the second she walked in, and practically burned a hole in her head with your staring."

Ian shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. "Weelll, she should know what she's doing, or find someone who does."

Her grin broadened. "I just love it when you get all protective," Rose said flirtingly, her grin evolving into that smile she knew was his favorite.

Ian's eyes widened ever so slightly at her tone, but on seeing that smile, a deep crimson heat rushed over him. The room suddenly felt very stuffy. Rose couldn't help but giggle at his flustered manner. It was adorable, so much like the beginning of their relationship. But, they were no longer at the beginning of things, and Rose would be lying if she said she wasn't missing the usual, more overt signs of affection from her husband. It had felt like an eternity since he'd kissed her, since he'd looked at her with that look—the one that said she was his entirety. Without it, Rose felt that a piece of her was missing. Craving that completion, she leaned in closer to him, her eyes flitting to his lips. Ian remained frozen, uncertain of what he should do, fighting what he wanted to do.

A harsh knock on the open door broke whatever trance the two of them had found themselves in.

A plump middle-aged woman entered. "'Ello, I'm Sophie. I'm here to do an ultrasound," she informed them, completely obtuse about the moment she'd just interrupted.

Sitting back into his chair, Ian awkwardly cleared his throat, and valiantly tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. Rose did her best to remain polite, even though she wanted to set the woman ablaze with one fiery look. Sophie brought the machine parallel with the hospital bed, and then walked over to the far wall and dimmed the lights. Lifting Rose's gown, she applied the gel to her belly and pressed the probe to Rose's skin. As she moved the probe over Rose's abdomen, a strong steady rhythm filled the room.

Ian felt every trace of air flee his lungs as the sound reached his ears. His eyes fixated on the screen in front of him, unable to quite make out the object. But then Sophie moved the probe, and the image became identifiable. His fingers sought Rose's and they intertwined tightly as his mind registered the image. It was the baby. He was experiencing the proof of life that was safely growing inside Rose. A life that was—

"Everythin' looks wonderful. Your son's got a very strong heartbeat," Sophie said happily as she continued to look at the screen.

"Our what?" Rose and Ian asked in unison.

The woman turned her face towards the pair, her eyes worried. "Oh my goodness! Ya didn't know, did ya?" she asked fretfully. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think."

"No," Ian said softly, and without thinking. "No, it's alright."

Rose turned to look at him. "We're havin' a boy," she said with a wet giggle, unshed tears threatening to break forth.

Ian lost the ability to speak further, and simply nodded his head in agreement, tightening his grip on Rose's hand.

"Looks like somethin's finally got the best of that gob of yours," Rose giggled again, causing Ian to grin at her.

Having finished with the scan, Sophie cleaned up Rose and gathered her equipment and left the room.

"We're gonna have a lil' 'you,'" Rose said, practically squealing this time as the tears from earlier finally broke loose and streaked down her cheeks. "All wild hair and incessant talking. Oh, my God…we're having a boy! Can ya believe it?"

"No, I can't," Ian answered, his voice nearly overcome with unfamiliar emotion. He didn't think it possible, but this situation was too surreal. He was in this life—a life he didn't even how he'd obtained—with a wife and daughter, and now he'd just heard his unborn son's heartbeat. Ian was so overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that he was filled with the desire to flee. Flee from all the longing it brought, all the good he didn't deserve. The only thing anchoring him there, was the woman with whom it had all started—Rose. He found it impossible to leave her at the moment; it felt wrong. He looked over at her and the light and life radiating from her was nearly blinding. She held his gaze, and Ian felt himself move closer to her. Rose looked at him expectantly as he neared her, almost hopeful at his actions. But at the last minute, he realized what his traitorous body was attempting, and instead, lifted their joined hands upward, gently brushing his lips against her knuckles.

Rose felt her breath catch at the gesture. Though Rose wished his lips had arrived at another destination, she was still affected. Because for one fleeting moment, she'd seen a trace of the man she loved. To be fair, she'd always seen him there. But what she'd caught a glimpse of that time, was the man whom she loved with every breath she took and with every fiber of her being, and who returned her ardor in full. He was there, lost somewhere within himself. She just had to help him find his way back to her.

Deciding to pursue that later, Rose asked, "Were Mum and Dad okay when they found out I was in hospital?"

Ian said nothing, but the look on his face said it all.

"Ya didn't tell them, did you?" When he shook his head, Rose continued, "Ya better call 'em now, before they find out some other way."

"Where's your mobile?" Ian asked.

"Well, if my clothes are still here, then it's in my back pocket like always."

Ian stood up and looked through the hospital bag that the nurses had put Rose's belongings in. He quickly located her mobile. Still pink, he noted with a smile. He walked back over and handed it to her.

Rose crinkled her brow. "What's wrong with yours?"

"It…my passcode doesn't work anymore. Hasn't since I g-," Ian caught himself, "since a few days back."

"Huh...that's odd. Have Jake or Mickey take a look at it when we get back. Bet they could fix it." Rose quickly scrolled through her Favorites and placed the call. A few seconds later, she spoke into the phone, "Hey, Mum…"

Though Ian had no idea what Jackie was saying, he could gather that she wasn't happy, based on the fact that Rose hadn't been allowed to finish more than half of her sentences. She couldn't have been on the phone more than five minutes before Rose asked to speak to her dad. It was only then that Rose was able to have a chance to explain the situation, and to Ian's relief, she insisted that they remain at home instead of coming to see her. Finally, Rose ended the call and placed the mobile next to her. A few minutes later, Martha came back into the room.

"Please tell me I can go home?" Rose begged.

"Normally I'd say 'no,' but since I know where you live and practically everybody in your life, I'm gonna go ahead and discharge you. But on one condition."

"Which is what?" Rose asked hesitantly. She could tell by Martha's stance that she wasn't going to like what was coming.

"I'm putting ya on bedrest."

Rose blinked at her. "But I can still go to the shop for a few hours, yeah?"

Martha crossed her arms and looked pointedly at her. "Does it have a bed?"

"Obviously not," Rose said, rolling her eyes.

"Then no, you can't. I want you to rest as much as possible. Ya can go out here and there, but I want to keep your stress to a minimum. And work constitutes a stress."

"Not lettin' me work is a stress!" Rose insisted. "I've got almost four months left. I can't keep away for that long."

"Your shop will manage, Rose. You're doing what Martha says," Ian said decidedly, leaving no room for questioning.

Rose whipped her head towards him, her eyes fierce and ready to do battle. However, Ian was meeting her gaze with a steadfast one of his own. He was not backing down, no matter how angry she may be at him. Rose pursed her lips for a moment, before crossing her arms in somewhat of a pout.

"Fine," she grumbled, acquiescing for the time being.

Ian raised an eyebrow appraisingly. Even though she had relented, Ian had a sense that this wasn't the last Rose had to say on the subject. But for right now, he would take the illusion of her acceptance.

An hour and a half later, Ian pulled in front of Pete and Jackie's house to pick up Olivia. When he went to pull the car round for Rose, he'd snuck a peek through the GPS and thanked his stars that their address was saved in the memory. He didn't think he could come up with a plausible excuse for not being able to successfully navigate his way there. With the car parked, Ian exited and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door and helping Rose out of the car. As they approached the door, Ian felt his anxiety grow over what his "in-laws'" reactions would be. He'd met Jackie twice, and based on that, Ian figured that the odds of him getting slapped were at least 50/50. As for Pete, he'd only met him the one time. However, Ian could still clearly recollect the intimidation he felt being in the man's presence. It wasn't an easy feat to make Ian feel such a way, so the fact that Pete had managed it with stunning precision made Ian feel very off kilter. Rose entered the code on the door's keypad and walked in, Ian slowly and cautiously following her.

"Hello?" Rose called out.

A young boy with an unruly mop of strawberry blonde hair rushed into the foyer, carrying a box of chocolate biscuits. His small face broke into a brilliant smile on seeing both her and Ian.

"Tony, does Mum know ya have those?" Rose asked as she smiled and gestured to the box.

The little boy's eyes widened and he gripped the box tighter, throwing his finger to his lips.

"Shhh!" he instructed, before running out of eyesight.

"That would be a 'no,'" Rose chuckled as went further into the house.

Ian surmised that the boy must be the sibling Rose mentioned yesterday. Well, sort of mentioned. Either way, he was relieved to find out that it was only circumstance that had prevented him from seeing the boy and not something more. Following Rose into the living room, Ian saw Olivia sitting on the floor with that familiar blue banana. The little girl turned her head toward in their direction and beamed when she saw them, dropping the toy and crawling towards them.

"There's my precious girl," Rose cooed as she attempted to stoop to pick her up. Jackie suddenly came into view and scooped up Livy, handing her to Rose.

"Hello, sweetheart. Didn't hear ya both come in," she said, giving Rose a peck to the cheek. She then turned her eyes to Ian. He held his breath and waited for her reaction. Jackie's eyes conveyed anger and immense irritation, but that was as far as it went. She silently opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally speaking to him.

"Pete's upstairs. He wanted to talk to you when ya got here."

Rose was too preoccupied with Livy to notice Ian's increasing discomfort; and if Jackie noticed, she either didn't say or didn't care at the moment. With one more deep breath, Ian turned and headed up the stairs. When he reached the top, Ian surveyed the doors before him. The first one he came to was partially open. He gently pushed the door further open, and saw Pete sitting behind his desk, his eyes focused on the computer screen in front of him. Pete must have sensed Ian's approach, because he immediately looked up from the screen and directly at him. Pete's eyebrows raised just slightly before the expression on his face became indiscernible.

Ian nervously cleared his throat, chastising himself as he did so. He was Ian Smith, "the Destroyer," able to hold his own against some of the worst scum of society and make them squirm; and here he was reduced to a jumble of nerves by a mere 'father-in-law.'

"Jackie said you wanted to talk with me."

Pete nodded and motioned for him to come in. Ian took a seat in one of the leather chairs as Pete came over and sat in the one next to him. Silence continued to pervade the room. The longer it continued, the more uncomfortable Ian felt.

For the love of God, just say something…

Looking over at Ian, Pete began, "Y'know, I've always made sure to respect yours and Rose's relationship. To not undermine you or make things difficult…even when I don't agree with you. And with the exception of one or two times here and there, that's been fairly easy to do…"

Ian held his breath, knowing that the proverbial "but" was imminent.

"But to be honest, Ian, you've got me baffled."

"Baffled? How so?"

Taking a breath, Pete answered, "Well, for starters, your behavior's all over the place. It's like night 'n day from the man I know. Now, I haven't seen much of this firsthand, except for that morning; but you knew joining this family meant word travelled like wildfire. And even then, I tried to keep myself from getting drug into all that muck and losing my head. But when my daughter visits me, clearly in pain but tryin' to hide her feelings, I know it's time for me to say something."

Ian could feel his body want to shift under Pete's gaze and firm tone of voice, but he forced himself to remain calm and collected.

"I…I don't know what you're expecting me to say, Pete."

"Truthfully, I don't know what I'm expecting either. What I do know is this—Rose is one of the strongest people I know, and it takes a lot for her to be affected like this. In fact, one of the few times I've seen her this way, was after that big blow up between you two. And I'll tell you the same thing that I did back then—do not push away the one person who means more to you than anything else. Pushing someone away doesn't prevent pain, it causes it. You need her just as much as she needs you. Forgetting that just makes you both miserable."

Ian was utterly taken aback by what had just been said to him, and was trying to allow it all to sink in. A large part of him had been expecting Pete to shout angry tirades at him, threats included. But this was the complete opposite of that. He wasn't sure what response to give after hearing those words, but Ian went with the one that, for some reason, seemed the most fitting.

Looking Pete directly in the eyes, he said, "Thank you."

Pete gave him a soft yet warm smile. "Anytime."

Later that night, Ian sat in bed, glasses on and reading the Tale of Two Cities that he'd found several days ago. His concentration broke when Rose entered the room. Ian thought to greet her, but was silenced by how beautiful he found her in that moment. Her hair was loose and fell gracefully down her back and shoulders. She had long since changed into a pair of pajamas that, by intent or not, highlighted her growing stomach. He settled for a warm smile which Rose readily returned, albeit tiredly.

"Livy went down quicker than I thought," Rose said, yawning.

"You should've let me take care of it. Martha said you needed rest and to avoid—"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Putting a fourteen-month old to bed is not gonna put me back in hospital. I'm not an invalid, y'know."

"No, just bloody stubborn," Ian muttered as he turned his attention back to the book.

"What was that?" Rose asked, quirking an eyebrow, daring him to reiterate.

"Nothing," he replied without looking up.

Before he realized it, Rose was by his side, practically snuggled up next to him.

"Whatcha readin'?"

"Uh…," Ian took several hard swallows, and forced himself to answer her. "A Tale of Two Cities."

"I love that one," she said as she snuggled further into his side. "Read me a bit?"

Try as he might (and he tried valiantly), Ian couldn't come up with a reason to refuse her. Clearing his throat, he found his place and began reading aloud:

"Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves…

…He embraced her, solemnly commended her to Heaven, and humbly thanked Heaven for having bestowed her on him…"

On feeling a slight stir, Ian looked down and found Rose sleeping, her arm still wrapped possessively across his stomach. He simply sat there, taking in every delicate contour of her face. Quietly closing the book, he placed it on the bedside table and switched off the light. He slowly sank further under the covers, careful not to disturb Rose as he did so. His breathing quickly fell in tandem with Rose's, and within minutes, Ian had drifted off.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Cathica Kadanie unlocked the door to Ian Smith's office. Stooping, she picked up the lately delivered mail and began sorting through its contents. She swiftly determined what was insignificant and what warranted further attention. After five years, she had this routine down to an art. Coming to the final envelope, she paused on seeing the sender's address. It was odd for her employer to receive mail from prisoners, especially in light of his unyielding and fierce reputation. For a moment, she was seriously tempted to discard the letter, but just then the office phone began to ring. Without another thought, Cathica hurriedly threw Harry Saxon's letter onto the desk before rushing away to answer the phone.