The doctor practically begged Sting to reconsider, but he stuck to his claim. Three weeks. Yue and Sol would stay right where they were for three weeks, and no one was going to make them come out before then.

In the years to come, they would laugh at the fact that Sting's assertion only covered outsiders forcing the twins out. That they might decide to come early on their own was a possibility that had crossed neither Sting nor Rogue's mind.

So familiar was Sting with physical discomfort that he didn't pay the contractions heed initially. He still had another week, after all. And his back hurt more than the occasional cramping in his stomach anyway.

Actually, his back hurt a lot. The twins were big. Their weight was driving him nuts, and even if he hadn't expected to have his wish granted, he was certainly wishing they would hurry up and get out of him. In fact, he spent the whole morning complaining about how sick he was of being pregnant, and worrying about how it might be effecting his back. Rogue even left to ask Porlyusica about how extensive of damage she could repair, just to shut him up.

When it finally dawned on Sting that he was in labor, his reaction was to get up, get himself a glass of water, then sit on the couch and wait for Rogue's return. His contractions were still far apart, and Rogue wouldn't be gone more than an hour.

He'd been there when Rogue went into labor, and for as absolutely panicked as Rogue was, Sting had found the whole affair surprisingly dull. They'd made it to the hospital without incident and he spent the next sixteen hours killing time on his own while waiting for Alex's arrival. Rogue, stressed and in pain, hadn't been in the mood for small talk and Sting, still bandaged up like a mummy after his car accident at that point, hadn't been in a position to offer much physical comfort. Rogue hadn't wanted him too close either, lest he somehow get hurt. Not that this concern had stopped Rogue from threatening all manner of bodily harm when the contractions grew worse.

Of course, there was also Jellal's labor. The one where he almost bled to death while trapped at home alone. But Sting wasn't alone. Frosch had left with Rogue, but if anything went horribly wrong while he waited for Rogue's return, Lector could help him to the hospital.

-o-

While Sting sat and home calmly making plans for every worst case scenario, Rogue shifted impatiently from one for to the other waiting on Porlyusica. Sting had been so miserable in his physical discomfort as of late that Rogue couldn't bear not to be there to help him. If one of them didn't need to earn enough to pay for rent and groceries, he would have stopped going to the guild altogether in order to stay by Sting's side as much as possible.

Porlyusica, seeing Rogue's agitation, made a point of going slower. After all, Rogue was the one who came to her, asking about back injuries and making her stop what she was doing to give her opinion on how much damage the pregnancy might be doing to Sting. If he didn't want to actually sit and listen to her, then he shouldn't have come in the first place.

The worst part of it, to Rogue, was that he didn't even seem to be learning anything worthwhile from her talk. She didn't think that Sting's injuries were likely to be permanent, based on how long they'd given him no trouble, but then without seeing him she couldn't tell.

Finally, when he could take it no longer, Rogue stood and told the woman, "Thank you for your time. I'll be sure to bring Sting around when he's up for the trip, so you can…" He stopped himself from saying 'so you can know what you're talking about.' "So you can better assess the situation."

"I'm not done."

"I really need to get back to him. Sorry. And thank you again."

"I said I'm not done you ungrateful brat!" Porlyusica yelled, but Rogue was already running as fast as he could back towards town, and only waved in response.

They would probably need to have an x-ray taken at the hospital after all. In the meantime, at least he could tell Sting that it wasn't a sure thing that he'd done any permanent damage.

Rogue hurried home with thoughts of how to comfort Sting at the front of his mind. It hurt to see Sting in pain or despair, and it hurt even worse to be unable to do anything for him. He might not be able to alleviate any of Sting's pain, but at least he could offer emotional support.

Assurance that things weren't definitely ruined and that they could start his treatment in a few weeks was on the tip of Rogue's lips when he opened the front door of their apartment, but seeing Sting's empty wheelchair sitting by the door, he froze.

"Sting?"

"Over here."

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing they needed was for Sting to try and get up and hurt himself worse. "You scared me."

"Hm."

That… was an uncharacteristically dull response. Ever since Sting started talking again, he'd been more talkative than that. Rogue stepped over to the couch to see Sting, stretched out on his side, face scrunched in pain.

"Are you okay?"

Sting glanced at him, but didn't respond. It was Lector who spoke up to say "He's been lying their rubbing his stomach for an hour."

He wasn't rubbing his stomach now. Instead, one hand clenched the fabric that stretched tight around his belly.

"That's a long time for Sting to sit in one place," Rogue said, trying to see if it might get a chuckle out of Sting. It didn't. It should have, and Rogue could think of a few reasons why it might not have, but those were silly. They still had a week before Sting was scheduled for his c-section.

With a gasp, Sting relaxed. The tension in his face eased, and his grip slackened. Finally looking Rogue's way, he offered a weak smile.

"Is anything wrong?" Rogue asked.

"Technically no. But I think it's time."

"…Time?"

"Yeah."

Deep down, he knew the answer, but Rogue's mind threw the breaks on and wouldn't let him think of it, so instead he asked, "What do you mean? Time for what?"

Sting huffed. "Just get me to the hospital."

"Right! Hospital." Rogue spun around and grabbed the wheelchair, swallowed nervously, and looked back to Sting. "You're really sure it's time?"

"Contractions are about twenty minutes apart."

"Oh. You're timing it… That's good."

Picking up on the odd note in Rogue's voice, Sting asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Fine. You're the one in labor. Are you alright?"

Rogue was always paler than Sting, but he looked even paler than normal. Sting refrained from pointing that out as he climbed into his chair and resigned himself to a nauseating trip to the hospital. Somehow, he'd figured their positions would have been fully reversed. After all, he was now the one about to give birth while Rogue had to get him to the hospital. It seemed, however, that he was still the one who found the whole thing dull while Rogue tried his best to keep calm.

Of course, it was also on Rogue both time to get the two of them to the hospital, but Sting suspected it had less to do with transport and more to do with the giving birth thing.

"I can ask Lector to take me," Sting offered.

"N-no. Just… I think I remember the way to the hospital."

Sting sure as hell hoped Rogue did.

-o-

Luckily for Sting, he remembered the way to the hospital, and corrected Rogue on the proper direction twice. By the time they arrived, Rogue's anxiety had begun to rub off onto Sting, if only because, for the first time since he became pregnant, Sting wasn't certain of Rogue's reliability. In fact, he was completely confident that he would have to take charge in all matters concerning his labor.

Given how terribly he'd done of doing anything himself in the past few months, that thought was nothing short of terrifying.

Rogue eventually got him to the front desk of the hospital, where Sting ignored the receptionist's sly grin as he explained the situation. This was the same hospital that Rogue had been treated at while expecting Alex, so a pregnant man ought not to have looked as unusual too them, but he'd become accustomed to the occasional employee who treated his condition like a novelty.

Okay. Maybe it was still unusual, but he was in labor and Rogue was struggling to recall their doctor's name, so Sting didn't have much time to deal with an employee acting unprofessional.

Much to his relief, someone was summoned to wheel him to the delivery ward. He'd worried that Rogue might take him to the wrong unit by mistake.

When they arrived, however, a new dilemma presented itself. For as much as Sting wanted Rogue not to try and take charge of the situation, he still wanted Rogue to be there. As such, it came as a painful shock, while the surgeon was summoned, when one of the nurses mentioned to them, "No guests in the operating room."

Rogue went rigid, hand tightening so protectively over Sting's shoulder that the pain from the grip eclipsed that of his contraction. After everything that had gone wrong with the pregnancy, after everything that had gone wrong with Sting when everything went wrong, the idea of leaving him alone with strangers was unbearable.

"Rogue has to be there," Sting said.

"I'm really sorry, but that's against hospital policy," the nurse replied. "We had an accident with an operation when family was let into the room. Most visitors aren't trained in sterile procedures. I'm sure you'd love to have your… I'm sorry. Which of you is the husband?"

"Both," Rogue said absentmindedly before remembering: "Oh. Wait. We're not married."

The nurse cleared her throat. "Well, I'm sure you'd love to have your… er… fiancée in the room with you, but trust me, you'd like it even more if we avoided any potentially fatal surgical infections."

"But it's only potentially fatal," Sting argued. "I'll die for sure if Rogue isn't there."

Humoring him, the nurse asked, "How so, Mr. Eucliffe?"

"Um… Heatbreak?"

"You have…" she checked the chart, "a beautiful little… Oh. Two boys? Really? You have two beautiful little boys about to come out into the world. That isn't enough to fill your heart with joy?"

"If it breaks, all the joy's going to leak out."

The nurse laughed, gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder, and said, "Your fiancée will be here for you after the operation is finished. You relax now. The doctor will be ready for you soon."

With that she left, leaving Sting and Rogue to stare at one another, tense, as they both tried to process that they couldn't be together when the twins were delivered.

"I need you there."

"We'll work this out," Rogue promised. "Maybe the doctor… no. If it's a hospital wide policy, then would he have the authority to waive it? Finding someone who could… we would have to ask them to stall the operation to give us time for that."

Seconds before Sting could say that was fine, a contraction hit. Feeling the muscles in his abdomen tighten painfully, he hissed and bent forward, clutching at his stomach.

Rogue, having gone through labor himself and knowing how horrible contractions were, waited for Sting's to end before expecting a response.

"Shit. No stalling. How long before the doctor's ready?"

"I don't know. Not long enough to find a way to get me in."

"You couldn't sneak in ahead of time?" Sting asked. "Sink into a shadow in the corner of the room, or something."

"If they're already setting up, then I don't know for sure if… wait. Sting, that's brilliant!" Rogue gave his lover a hug, one hand pressed firmly on Sting's back, the other on the back of the wheelchair. "If anyone asks, I went to… I don't know. I went to get something from a vending machine."

There was one right beside them, which Sting took as another sign that Rogue was still a little out of it, but it did seem that Rogue had managed to claim back a little mental alertness in the shock of hearing they might be separated. Activating his magic, Rogue melded into Rogue's shadow, and was hidden from sight.

They would hardly be able to get closer, and no one would know to chase Rogue out like that.

Knowing Rogue was there, even knowing that he had managed to stay more level-headed than Rogue for once, didn't keep Sting any calmer when the nurse returned to wheel him to his surgery.

-o-

If anyone asked Sting to recount his delivery, he wouldn't be able to. The entire experience was surreal. Everything from when they wheeled him into the room and helped him onto the operating table he knew for sure had happened, but from the moment they'd given him the injection that numbed him, it felt as if he wasn't even there.

It wasn't that the drug did too good a job of dulling his senses. Rather, the fact that he could look down and see the surgeon carefully cut him open made the whole thing feel unreal. Like it wasn't his own midsection they were about to pull a baby out of.

Then it hit him—really hit him—that someone was about to pull two babies out of his midsection.

His breath became short, and the nurses kept telling him things to calm him down, but whatever they said, it didn't quite reach him. It wasn't until he felt the pressure of Rogue's hand, reaching from the shadows to rest reassuringly on the back of Sting's shoulder, that he managed to reign himself in.

People had babies pulled out of them all the time. Rogue had a baby in his that a doctor helped get out, and now Rogue was there with him and it would be okay. He just needed to keep calm and let the doctor do his job.

That didn't stop him from passing out when he saw the doctor reach into the surgical cut and pull out the first head, but it kept him from hyperventilating up until that point.