Chapter Text
The shift had already been bad before Samira realized something was wrong.
For Samira, that meant simple cases. A few kids needed stitches. A man who forgot his heart medication while visiting his daughter. Someone convinced they had a malignant brain tumor. Each consult was quick and simple. And yet she couldn’t finish her charting for any of them.
Samira had been off all morning.
She told herself it was exhaustion. She’d pulled a double two days ago, barely slept, lived on crappy breakroom coffee and a granola bar she forgot to finish. Of course she felt nauseous. Of course her back hurt. Of course there was that weird, heavy pressure low in her abdomen.
Still, something about it felt wrong. She knew she pushed herself too far but this time felt worse than it normally did.
She pressed a hand subtly to her stomach as she stood at the nurses’ station, eyes scanning a chart she hadn’t really read in the last thirty seconds.
“You look like hell.” Robby’s voice cut through the fog. He hadn’t been the first to say it today, but it didn’t grind her any less. In fact, it somehow annoyed her more.
Samira didn’t even look up. “Thank you. I feel amazing.”
“No, seriously.” He leaned against the counter, studying her face in a way that made her chest tighten. “You’re pale and you're favoring one side and it doesn’t seem to be helping relieve anything.”
She huffed out a breath. “I pulled a double. My body hates me for it.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t buy it. Not even a little. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Define ate.”
“Samira.”
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Coffee counts.”
“Great. Fantastic. Love that for you.” He straightened. “Come on.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, no, you’re not.” His tone sharpened, not unkind but firm in a way that made arguing feel pointless. “Exam room. Now.”
She rolled her eyes, but there wasn’t much fight in her. Mostly because when she shifted her weight, a sharp, cramping pain cut through her lower abdomen so suddenly it stole her breath. Her hand snapped to the counter.
Robby’s expression changed instantly. “Okay. Nope. That’s not exhaustion.”
“I—” She sucked in a breath. “It’s just a cramp.”
“That was not just a cramp.”
“I’m serious—”
Another wave hit. It wasn’t sharp this time. It tightened and forced the air out of her lungs. Her period had never been this painful.
She bent forward, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Samira.”
“I’m fine,” she said again, but it came out strained, thin, unconvincing even to her own ears.
“Yeah, you’re doing great,” Robby muttered. “Let’s go.”
***
She was glad she hadn’t taken on a new patient. That way, no one would come looking for her. And hopefully no one noticed her being marched down to an exam room by Robby.
She didn’t enjoy putting on a gown and getting on the patient bed. The annoyance would probably put her more on edge if it wasn’t for the cramping hitting her yet again.
One minute she was at the nurses’ station, the next she was sitting on the edge of a bed, paper crinkling beneath her, heart beating too fast.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, though her voice shook. “I just need a minute.”
“Mhm.” Robby was already pulling gloves on. “We’re gonna run a couple quick checks.”
“For what? Food poisoning?”
“Sure,” he said easily. “We’ll start there.”
Another cramp hit her mid-sentence.
Her breath caught, shoulders tensing as the pressure built again, heavier this time, radiating into her lower back.
“Shit,” she gasped.
Robby went still. That wasn’t baseline for any menstrual cramps she had before. “Samira,” he said slowly, carefully. “When did this start?”
She shook her head, trying to breathe through it. “It’s just cramps.”
He stared her down. “Since when?”
“This morning. Kind of. It’s been on and off.”
“How far apart?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t—” She broke off with a sharp inhale as the pain peaked again. “Tracking it, Robby, I was trying to finish my charting.”
He was already moving.
“Okay. Okay. We’re gonna do an exam.”
“An exam for what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he motioned for her to move down.
That’s when the unease really set in. She knew her mentor hated treating coworkers. He had no choice from time to time but he tried to avoid it as much as possible.
“Robby.”
“Just—lay back.” A pelvic for some cramping? Really?
“Robby, what are you—”
“Samira.”
Something in his voice made her stop and consider what he was asking her to do. Not panic but definitely not calm, either. Something in between. Focused. Tight.
The kind of tone doctors used when they were trying not to alarm someone while already being very, very alarmed.
Her stomach dropped. “What do you think is wrong with me?” He met her eyes but didn’t answer. “Robby.”
"Just let me check. If it’s nothing, then it’s nothing. But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
***
Samira stared at the ceiling tiles, trying to steady her breathing, trying to ignore the way her body kept tightening in waves that were getting harder to dismiss. Trying to count the number of stains in the tiles. Trying ignore the fact that her mentor was giving her a pelvic exam when he seemed to fight being in the same room as her most days. Honestly, she wouldn’t be shocked if Robby criticized the state of her waxing at this point.
This isn’t happening.
Her thoughts cut off as Robby went completely still. “Robby?” she said, a flicker of fear creeping in.
He didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was different. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Samira, I need you to stay very still for a second.” It was the same tone he used when he was about to tell a patient news that might make them reactive. Bracing himself against their feelings so he could continue to treat them.
Her heart started to pound. He ripped off his gloves and walked to the corner of the room.
“What.”
He exhaled slowly, like he was choosing his words very carefully. “There’s a head.” Robby grabbed the exam room phone and spoke only two words. “Code pink. Exam room 3.”
The world stopped.
“What?” He quickly hung the phone back on the receiver. “You’re in labor.” He quickly sanitized his hands, and grabbed a new pair of gloves
“That’s not—” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Robby, that’s really not funny.” She watched as he returned to his spot between her legs.
“I’m not joking.”
“No, I’m not pregnant.” She didn’t even know if she said it aloud as one of the OB nurses appeared, clearly just arriving from the department upstairs.
Another cramp hit, harder than anything before, and suddenly denial didn’t feel as solid as it had thirty seconds ago.
Her body knew something even if her brain refused to catch up.
“I’m not pregnant,” she repeated, weaker this time, breath hitching as the pressure built again. “Robby, I would know if I was pregnant.” She was a doctor for goodness sake’s. A good one at that.
“I know,” he said, and there was something almost apologetic in it. “But you are. And you’re about to have a baby.”
Her chest constricted.“No.”
“Samira.”
“No. No, that’s not” Her voice broke as the pain surged again, overwhelming, impossible to ignore now. “I can’t— I can’t do this, I can’t—”
She noticed his own eyes had become glassy You don’t have a choice,” he said gently. “Your body’s already doing it.”
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, like saying it out loud might undo it. “How did I not know?” Maybe this was a dream? Her own Ebneezer Scrooge moment. Instead of learning not to be a curmudgeon, she was learning to not work herself to exhaustion and she would wake up and this would all be over. That had to be it.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But we’ll figure that out later, okay? Right now we need to focus on getting you through this.”
Her head shook frantically. “No, I can’t— I can’t have a baby, Robby, I—”
Another contraction slammed into her, and this time she cried out. The nurse mentioned something to Robby about the OB attending being tied up on another case.
Somehow this situation could get worse. “Okay,” Robby said, switching fully into action mode. “We’re doing this here.”
“Here?” she choked. Could she have one piece of dignity during this? Of course not. She got to give birth in the ER with all of her coworkers within earshot. She would strangle Langdon if he made any jokes once this was over.
“Yeah. You don’t have time to move.”
Her hands gripped the sides of the bed, knuckles white. “No, no, no—”
“Samira, look at me.”
She didn’t want to. Did anyway.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said firmly. “And so is the baby.”
The baby. She choked out a sob.The word hit like a physical blow. “I can’t—” Her voice cracked. “Robby, I can’t do this alone—”
He hesitated. Just for a second. “Who do you want me to call?” Her brain short-circuited. There were a dozen answers she should have given. Her mom. A friend. Literally anyone else. Even fucking Langdon.
Being tortured like this and secrets were flying out of her mouth. “Jack.” It came out instinctively, no thought.
Robby blinked. “…Jack?” he repeated. He squinted like he was trying to recall some piece of her personal life that she told him.
Samira’s breath hitched as another contraction started to build. She didn’t want to say more. “Please.”
There was a long, heavy pause.
“Oh.”
It clicked.
He straightened slowly, something like realization settling over his face. “Oh,” he said again, softer this time. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Robby—” she gasped.
“Yeah, I’m calling him,” he said quickly, already reaching for his phone. “I’m definitely calling him.” He moved from the stool, letting the nurse take his spot while he opened his phone to call his best friend.
***
Jack was halfway through a conversation with Dr. Park about the Steelers when his phone started vibrating. He almost ignored it. Almost. Then he saw the name. Robby.
That was unusual considering he knew that Robby was still in the hospital. The motorcycle was still parked outside. As each other’s emergency contacts, he had to answer.
“Give me a second,” he said, stepping away, already answering. “What’s up?”
There was no greeting. “Where are you?” Robby asked.
Jack frowned. “In the building. Why?”
“I need you in exam three. Now.”
Something in his tone made Jack’s stomach drop.“What’s wrong?” A beat.
“It’s Samira.”
Everything in Jack went cold.
“I’m coming,” he said immediately, already moving.
***
He didn’t think. Didn’t slow down. Ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain from his prosthetic. Didn’t question why his heart was pounding like this.
He just moved—fast, cutting through the ER, ignoring the looks, the calls after him and Dana telling him to slow down. By the time he reached the room, his pulse was roaring in his ears.
He pushed the door open and everything inside him shattered. The nightmare that haunted him the most at night in front of him.
Samira was on the bed sobbing. Patient gown on. The nurse holding her hand, trying to calm her down.
Curled forward as another contraction tore through her.
“Jack,” her voice broke when she saw him. “Jack, I—”
“What happened?” he demanded, already at her side, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to touch. “What’s wrong?
“She’s in labor,” Robby said, from between her legs
Jack froze. There was no way.“What.”
“Actually she’s crowning.” The nurse let go of her hand and started to gather supplies on the other side of the room.
Jack blinked.
Like if he just reset his brain, the sentence would rearrange itself into something that made sense. She wasn’t pregnant. His girlfriend or situationship or whatever they were calling it (he and Samira had two very different definitions) wasn’t pregnant.
“ What the hell?”
Samira let out a strangled sob. “I didn’t know.”
Jack’s gaze snapped to her. Whatever panic had been rising in him shifted because she looked terrified. Not just in pain.Terrified. He had never seen her this way.
He couldn’t help but remember that Samira handled pain well in almost every regard. Whether she compartmentalized it or just had a high tolerance, he didn’t know. But her anxiety could take over her body like a parasite.
He knew she was unable to switch from clinical mode right now. Unable to stop playing a game of “worst case scenario” by herself.
“I didn’t know,” she repeated, shaking. “I didn’t— Jack, I didn’t know I was pregnant—”
“Hey.” His voice dropped instantly, softening in a way that felt almost automatic. He cupped her face, grounding her. “Hey. Look at me.”
Her eyes locked onto his, wide and frantic.
“I believe you,” he said, steady, certain. “Okay? I believe you.”
Her breath hitched.“I can’t do this,” she moaned
“You can,” he said immediately. “You can. And I’m right here.”
Another contraction hit, and she cried out, gripping his arm hard enough to hurt. He didn’t move.
“Okay,” Robby cut in, because if he didn’t, they were both going to spiral. “We need to focus. Samira, when the next contraction comes, you’re going to push.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” Jack echoed, firmer this time, “you have to, sweetheart.”
She shook her head violently, tears spilling over. “I can’t, I’m not ready, I don’t even— I don’t even know what’s happening.”
“I know,” he said, voice breaking just slightly before he caught it. “I know. But you don’t have to know everything. You just have to do the next step.”
Her breathing was ragged, uneven. He used his other arm to reach around her and provide her more support and help optimize her position.
“This is horrible,” she admitted.
“I know,” he said again, softer. “But it’s only going to get better if you push.
That made her look at him.
She saw it then—the panic he was holding back, the fear he was swallowing down just to stay steady for her.
“You’re doing great,” he said, even as his own voice trembled. “You’re doing so good.”
Robby glanced between them, something like disbelief flickering through him but there was no time to analyze it.
“Okay,” he said sharply. “Contraction’s building. Samira, I need you to push.”
She shook her head
Jack tightened his grip on her hand.
“Together,” he said. “Okay? You’re not doing this alone. You’re going to be ok and we’ll talk about it after.” Her fingers clutched his.Another wave slammed into her.
“Now,” Robby said.
Samira cried out and pushed.
It was nothing like the controlled, textbook deliveries they’d both seen a hundred times. Sure, the blood, sweat, and tears were there. But it had never been them.
There were moments where Samira sobbed that she couldn’t do it anymore. Moments where Jack’s voice cracked as he told her she could. Moments where Robby had to be the steady center because both of them were teetering on the edge of panic.
“Okay,” Robby said, breath tight. “I have their head in my hand. Just one more. One more big push.”
“I can’t,” Samira gasped. Sweat was pouring down her face and she felt like she was cracking in half.
“Yes, you can,” Jack said, urgent now. “Samira, you’re right there. You’re so close.” He wiped her forehead with a cold towel, a poor attempt to provide some relief.
She shook, exhausted, overwhelmed but when the next contraction came she pushed.
Then a cry. The room went still.
Robby exhaled, something like relief breaking through for the first time.“Okay,” he said, softer now. “Okay. Baby’s out.”
Samira collapsed back against the bed, sobbing, shaking, unable to process.
Jack stared as his best friend took the infant and began examining her. He tried to remember the checks for an unknown pregnancy protocol and couldn’t come up with a single one despite treating a dozen births like this one.
He just stared at the tiny, wriggling, very real human being that had not existed in his world ten minutes ago.
“That’s—” His voice failed. He tried to clear his throat. “That’s—”
“Your kid,” Robby said quietly, “daughter actually”
Jack let out a shaky laugh that was half disbelief, half hysteria. “That’s my kid.”
Samira turned her head, eyes glassy with tears. “Jack,” she whispered.
He looked at her and smoothed back her hair then back at the baby then back at her. Something in his expression shifted—fear, awe, love, all crashing together at once.
“We have a baby,” he said, like he still didn’t quite believe it.
Samira let out a broken laugh through her tears.“We have a baby.”
Robby shook his head, already moving to finish the post-delivery checks.“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Absolutely unbelievable.”
But there was a small smile there, too because somehow they were all okay. And yet, nothing was ever going to be the same.