(Author's Note: I'm sorry.

Standard disclaimers apply. I own nothing but my own imagination.)

Saying that Katherine had a difficult pregnancy would be a vast understatement.

It was truly awful. Jack often wished Katherine had never gotten pregnant in the first place because it was so terrible for her.

The first few months had been alright; she had the typical morning sickness and exhaustion, but nothing out of the ordinary. Her symptoms were a little more extreme than was to be expected, but nothing to worry about.

But around the fifth month in, Katherine started getting more and more frequent intense pains, and was, most of the time, not well enough to even leave the apartment.

It terrified Jack every time it happened. She'd just be sitting in the living room, reading or attempting to learn to knit, (which she insisted on doing even though she was downright awful at it), and she'd suddenly call his name in a panicked voice, sending him bolting to her side, even though there was really nothing he could do but clasp her hand and try his best to comfort her.

It was awful to watch her, knowing that he couldn't help. He wanted to jump up and scream, "Why her? What did she do to deserve this? Someone please just help my wife!" but he knew he had to be strong for Katherine.

The doctors didn't have much of an explanation, except that she was 'a very small person' and that she probably 'couldn't cope with the strain of carrying a child' and advised her to get a lot of rest. This meant she couldn't work, and that alone was enough to drive Katherine to the brink of insanity.

"Will you at least bring me my typewriter?" She begged one afternoon, throwing down her tangled up knitting needles, apparently giving up for the day, "I just need to do something."

"I dunno Ace..." He contemplated her request, but his thoughts were cut short.

"Jack Kelly, I don't think you understand how frustrating this is for me," she screeched, startling him, "I can't do anything! I'm hardly even allowed to get up. I'm useless! All I want to do is type. Something, anything! Please, just bring me my typewriter, or I swear to you I will get up and get it myself!" She shot him a fiery glance, and Jack took a step backwards, giving in. He reluctantly dragged the clunky typewriter from where it had sat, unused, on Katherine's desk for the past few weeks. He had to admit, he was glad she was feeling well enough to ask for it, even if it meant she was also feeling well enough to boss him around.

She started to type as soon as he set it on her lap, her fingers flying across the keys just like normal, filling their apartment with constant clicking. Jack kissed the top of her head and left her to her work, busying himself in the other room with a drawing for the newspaper so as to leave her alone for a while.

He took a deep breath; Jack couldn't help but be a little frustrated. She was being so... difficult. One minute everything would be fine, and the next, she'd be screaming at him, or sobbing uncontrollably. There was no rhyme or reason to it. He never knew what to expect, which meant that he was often vastly unprepared for whatever irrational flood of emotions she was dealing with.

Sometimes he would get so angry with her, but then she'd catch his hand and throw him an apologetic look, and he'd melt, doing everything he could to make her happy. Because he loved her. He knew Katherine didn't mean to be difficult, but this couldn't be easy on her either, being stuck inside all the time, hardly allowed to even walk around her own apartment...

He was so absorbed in his thoughts and trying to give Katherine her space, that he almost didn't notice when the sound of her typewriter keys stopped about an hour later. He popped his head through the door to check on her, and Katherine was asleep again, pale and limp, her typewriter set clumsily on the ground beside her. Jack sighed, feeling an overwhelming wave of pity for her. He went to put her typewriter away, but paused when he glanced down at the paper it held.

The first words on the page were, "Dear Jack," and well, that should give him the right to read it, shouldn't it? He carefully took the paper out of the machine and started to read.

"Dear Jack,

First of all, thank you for bringing me my typewriter. I know you didn't want to, and I appreciate that you did anyway. Besides, I thought I could say this better on paper than I could out loud.

Remember that I love you. You are everything to me. I know I haven't been the easiest person to deal with lately, and you have been so wonderful. What did I ever do to deserve a husband like you? I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you, and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I love you more than anything. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, never forget that.

Also, there's something I need you to understand. I'm not stupid; I know what the doctors tell you when they think I'm asleep. There's a chance I might not get better. I could die, Jack. And at some point, you might have to make a choice between me and our kid. Please, I'm begging you, don't choose me. I couldn't live with myself knowing that I was alive at the expense of a child who was never given so much as a chance at life. Give our kid a chance, please.

I love you so much. Don't ever forget that. I need to get some rest, and if I know you, you'll have already read this by the time I wake up; don't feel bad. We'll talk about this soon.

Your loving wife,

Katherine"

He stared at the letter in astonishment, unsure of how he felt about it. It scared him to think of that ultimatum, Katherine or their kid. He was only drawn from his thoughts when he heard a sharp cry echo through the room, and he immediately knelt by Katherine, taking her hand.

She was in pain again. He was suddenly very aware of every slight movement she made, every sound that left her lips. His angel was in pain, and he couldn't help her. There was nothing he could do, but hold her hand and stroke her tangled hair and speak softly in her ear, hoping to distract her for even a moment. Katherine's eyes were squeezed shut, and her fingers clutched at his hand desperately. Her nails were digging into his palm, but Jack didn't care. All he could focus on were the tiny tears that dripped down his wife's pale face and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He flinched as a sound resembling a whimper left her mouth. She looked so small and frail, the complete antithesis of who she was. Katherine was strong, and brave, and Jack couldn't stand seeing her this way, like a rag doll that had been carelessly tossed aside by its owner.

Suddenly, her grip on his hand loosened and her short and shallow breaths grew in length and depth. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and Jack thought she looked like the princess from a fairy tale he'd heard her reading to the younger boys at the lodging house once.

"Was it bad?" He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, even though he already knew what she was going to say. There was a long pause in which only the sound of her breathing could be heard.

"Yeah," she replied softly. Jack's heart broke.

"You'll be okay soon, I promise." She struggled to push herself into a sitting position, and murmured,

"Jack look-"

"I read your letter," he interrupted. A worried look clouded her eyes.

"And?"

"I won't let it happen!" He said firmly. He was not going to let her die.

"Jack, you have to at least think about it," she protested, clearly holding back tears, "you have to know that it's possible. It's a choice you might have to make."

"No." Jack growled. He stood up and set his jaw angrily, pacing through the room.

"Jack-"

"No!" He yelled, "I won't, because I will never make that choice. You are going to get better Katherine." He said it more like an instruction than a form of encouragement. "You's a fighter, Ace, I know you are. You ain't giving up on me now, not after everything we've been through." They were both crying by that point, and Jack knelt back by her side, gripping her hand again. "You're gonna be okay," he said, punctuating it with a long kiss. He wiped the tears from her face, and she reached up to touch his cheek.

"Thank you." She murmured.

"You'll be okay Ace, I'll see to it," Jack reaffirmed, and squeezed her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too." Jack smiled, but his heart ached for her. He had no idea how long this would last, and frankly-though he would never tell Katherine directly-he was terrified that she might not pull through, so as soon as sleep caught Katherine once more, Jack knelt over her, and did something he'd never done before, and never really thought he would do. Jack Kelly prayed. He hadn't ever been religious-he wasn't even quite sure who or what he was praying to-but he figured somebody had to be out there listening, and well, it was worth a shot.

"Uh, I dunno exactly how this works," he started, his voice cracking, barely a whisper, "but I ain't got anything to lose by tryin'. I just-you gotta help Katherine. She's gotta get better soon, just... just keep her alive. I could never forgive myself if something happened to her. I dunno what I'd do if I lost her. Please don't take her from me. Look, I don't know if you can hear me, or if you even care, but she needs you. An... and I guess I need you too. Uh, thanks, I guess." He left it there, hoping that was good enough.

Maybe that could help her get better. Maybe that was enough. For now, all he could do was be there for her, and hope.

(Well, some of you guessed that the lambs weren't totally out of the woods just yet, and all I have to say about that is, you guys know me too well. It gets better, don't worry. All will be revealed soon enough…

Please keep on reading and reviewing! It makes me so happy to see what you all think of my work.

Much love,
PrettyLittleMonster Xxx)